Teening my 30s

Or trying to live the life I've missed (not a tragedy, I promise but didn't want to start the post with a whiney title)....learning how to style my thin (sparse) hair and pushing my heavy legs into a pair of nylon stockings. As a teenager in Mumbai, I've never had the need for styling or stockings. It was too humid to encase my legs in nylons without space for my pores to breathe - heck, I'd be sweating buckets just putting them on. Leggings, yes, stockings, never! Plus I was always conscious of my thicker (than my friends') legs despite not being a fat teen. I got a little fat towards the end of my teens and well, the job took it all off so life was good.

The hair was always tied up and styled (straightened) only when going out to weddings or my school farewell party (like prom). I rarely wore anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. And hair was always tied back to tame my curly and stiff - often frizzy - hair.

Towards my early 20s, my hair started to thin out thanks to a female baldness gene in my family. My sis doesn't have it, thank goodness. But it came at the wrong time for me, just when one starts to attend work parties, get hooked to other eligibles, etc. I needed long-term treatment which I still need, this isn't a problem that goes away after a few years of medicines but seems a more life-long thing. I do it, I ignore it at times and my hair starts to thin out again. Currently, I'm back on the medic wagon.

So, I let things go after I got married. I was never a perfect weight or figure and it's always been a work in progress for me. I realise more and more that I was still ok until I went on the Pill and also pigged out a lot after we got married. We would always go out on weekends, drink like fishes and return home after midnight. Weekends were filled with new restaurants to try, or bring fish home and fry it or make a wonderful chicken gravy dish. Or we'd go home to my mom's and have a feast there - often Indian or Chinese takeout if not pizza. I started to change dress sizes and my ex-co-workers were so flabbergasted (everyone told me I was sooo fat). I went on a salad diet that worked a little while before I came here but just as it's been a lifelong process for me, I put on weight when I went back to Mumbai for my sister's wedding.

So, now I'm on Kellogs every morning which keeps me sated until lunchtime. My eating habits are now much, much more improved. Now, I've only got to try regular gymming so I can tone my legs and butt. Maybe a yoga or Zumba class wouldn't hurt if only to get me into the mood to walk to the gym every morning or evening. Whenever I'm fighting the war to make myself go to the gym, I'm reminded of this patient of Becker who's telling me that he tries to go in (to the gym) but something always stops him from getting inside. Becker's retort is classic:

"Would it help if they buttered the door?"

This always makes me crack up.

So, anyway, I'm rediscovering heels and platform wedge shoes, squashing my legs in stockings which despite their opaqueness, make me feel sexy, and I'm channelling it to try and trim myself down to what I was when I got married. I wasn't thin - not even slimmy slim - but I liked myself then. Even in the work in progress mode, I wore a size Medium or Large.

In the hair department, I tried to style my hair on my own for the first time. I showered, towel dried my hair, slapped on some styling gel and tried to tame my curls and actually succeeded although on one side of my head. The other side was a struggle through and through, especially when the first lesson was to hold the dryer properly and then swing the brush in a more synchronised motion.

The next step is to successfully apply makeup. I never needed it - my complexion worked for me (the only thing I didn't need to fix) and my mom advised me to keep makeup to the minimum. I would only apply some lipstick or coloured lip balms and eyeliner or pencil. Now that I'm in my 30s, I realise more and more that I need some makeup especially when I'm going out for musicals or going somewhere fancy to eat. I want to look gorgeous. It will be one heck of a transformation for me.

And yeah, I'm still a girl who hasn't learned to do these things in her teens. If you look at an Indian 20 year old in Mumbai today, you'll never see anyone like what I've described of myself during those years. If they've got thinning hair, they've also got switches and stuff. But their genes are generally good or else they go back to the human factory and look like Barbies. They have exceptional makeup skills and six inch heels and you might not find a hose but then you're looking at the lot that travels in trains and buses. A minute in those and you wouldn't bear stockings either. But look at the girls zooming in and out of clubs, clacking their heels across a well-maintained street and walking only a short distance - from their cars to their destinations. They may drink like fish and end up puking on the sidewalk or their frenemies' dresses. But they look so darn good.

Power of Words

The kind of words you use, especially when you're criticising someone's work, makes such difference - harsh words especially fulfill their purpose of putting you down in ways that it takes some time for the constructive advice (if any) to sink in. And I'm not talking of face to face conversation, I'm talking about a review of my work by a school teacher, who is of course in the right to change anything she wants in my script since I am talking about her subject.

But I'm struck by the rudeness. In India, Mumbai among all others, schools specialise in strict disciplinary methods used to control a classroom that more often than not will have more than 40 kids. When I was a student, there was constant shouting and bullying that many teachers - often unskilled ones - would do when they weren't simply reading out the lessons to us. Very few over the years have offered me any constructive advice. The ones who did made me write better, read as many books from the library as I could, instead of picking the thinnest book and keeping it in the bag until the week was up and it had to be checked in. Many school teachers did not think twice before slamming a wooden ruler across a child's knuckles. Now, I don't know if they're reining in the impulse to do some physical harm but their words sure aren't.

My reviewer seems to scream down her criticism at me. Instead of something like "What are you trying to say?" it comes across like "What the hell do you mean?" I can understand not being able to control a retort when in a classroom and speaking it (although no one would expect a school teacher to say something like that), rather than sitting here reading a few lines and even if you're angry that I didn't know better than to write a dumb thing like that, you still have a few seconds to collect your thoughts and write a review comment. When you say things like "What did they do? Ate? Chewed? Gobbled?" I can almost hear the person saying "you moron" at the end. I don't mind the criticism, I'm no expert. I don't even mind the grammatical or language mistakes, if someone points them out I do get embarrassed and try not to do it again once I've corrected it. But the blurt out question review comment takes some time to sink in. The rest of her comments aren't civil either. Actually I don't expect anything other than just telling me what's wrong with it as plainly as possible. I just don't like when plain is like that first question which just put me in a not so good mood for the rest of the ride.

I have a tendency to be a little sensitive. And I realise that teachers are not always in the best of moods, horribly long hours, never-ending workload and not everyone is in it for the satisfaction - a classroom of some bratty kids would soon kill it. But I do realise that writing takes longer than just blurting it out. And fewer people realise that it can really do something it hadn't intended to do.

I'd done it myself when I'd criticised a friend for something that he did which hurt me but I wish I hadn't put it in an email. Or that I'd been more considerate than if I were talking to him. I just shot it off, reading it once to make sure he got the message but I was too hardheaded to accept the hurt that could come along with it. When it did come, I was amazed that he didnt see the point to my letter. When I got over my own selfishness, of course, the regret came and I wish I'd never done that. And even if you delete the email, it doesn't kill the bad feelings.

Or maybe I just need to develop a thicker skin....I dont know.

Made me laugh...

Elephant to a Camel - Why do you have two boobs on your back?

Camel - That's a pretty stupid question coming from someone with a dick on his face!

:)

I Heart My Married Life Blog

This is one of those addictions like reading Miss Manners every Friday or reading more about other people than writing out my stories on my own blog. I still have to get the hang of posting 'interesting' bits about my life instead of playing them out in my head and keeping them there. But until then, I'm getting super encouraged by all the writers on my blog list and this blog on MSN.com called

http://living.msn.com/love-relationships/my-married-life-blog/

I keep replaying my life with P as I'm reading about different things that the couples Dave and Stephanie (live-in partners) and Jack and Holly (married couple) put up on the blog. I feel like I get what they're talking about - whether its a Match.com for couples or Dave's dislike of gyms, travails of breaking up, buying an "in a relationship" status for 5 dollars, or even their take on Heidi and Seal's divorce. I love the fresh topics and their honest, often funny opinions. Makes for a great morning read.

Basically I'm glad to hear couples talking about things other than cooking, their husbands/kids, their parents and then running out of steam and escaping into the kitchen until a fresh topic is thought of or the TV is switched on - which just about ends any ongoing convo. I am tired of going to people's houses (sometimes for an overnight, very uncomfortable stay), running out of conversation by 9 o clock and just staying up watching a random movie until 12 or 1 am feeling really bored. I tried telling her frankly that I don't mind spending a whole day with her but we'd rather come back home later. She agreed and when my husband had this same conversation with her husband he said why dont you come over and we'll see. I can see it now, he'll probably have a two-year old tantrum to keep us from leaving although we know we'll just have an awful time. Anyway, we dont want this couple to hate us so I think we'll play it safe and go way early in the morning and take the last bus out if need be. Let's see if our requests work face to face.

This reminds me of a friend who said its so hard to find a couple that's more of an intellectual match with them and I thought this wasn't a very fair statement at the time. I thought people nice enough to have a good time hanging around with was enough but honestly, I can see the merit of at least once a week or twice, having a conversation you can remember fondly or coming across something and not being able to wait until you share it with someone. These things were easier when I was single and worked in an office. After I got married, we don't find enough people who we can talk to about movies, the library, books, our experiences here. I should probably look them up online and have a cyber (that word still sounds nasty) chat with other couples out there. Or use that Match.com website!

It's almost Feb 14th - The Day of Love

And I'm missing some major excitement in Mumbai - cocktail shakers containing macarons with a hint of Cointreau.

To wish you could buy one (or to buy one), please visit: http://blog.le15.co.in/2012/01/le15-for-cointreau-and-lotsa-valentines.html

These are so seriously cute, I could buy one for every week until 2013. In those cute as a button pink transparent shakers. Sooo much better than the silver ones, all of a sudden.

Makes me wish I had enough money to decorate my home a lot better - pink cocktail shakers, psychedelic martini glasses, a Lava Lamp and flowery curtains - same print as the bags at Marimekko. Marimekko is a great name for a girl. I love Japanese names - Sayuri was something I swooned over in Memoirs of a Geisha. It was the perfect girl name. Marimekko seems the fun, flirty Zooey Deschanel type name. Sayuri is the graceful and doting older sister. Watch my imagination run away with me. And I'm only in the curtain department.

Basically, I'm wishing I could live at Crate and Barrel. Their postcard printed appetizer plates, the festively multicoloured pitcher, flutes that look like miniature lava lamps - without the burst of colour - the cute dishes and "swoop" bowls and all the wonderful things in its store. Even their juice glasses look so enchantingly sophisticated.

Sighs.

Wandering Feet

We're off to NYC on Saturday morning. Nothing better than having three awesome days to spend in the Big Apple - the Christmas tree at Rockefeller, the tiny trains at Grand Central (apart from the big ones), tramping around Manhattan's stores and scenes, Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn...the works!

I'm still trying to focus on the sights part and not so much the food but that's just proving impossible. Have made a list: Katz's, Schimmel's bakery for knishes, Lombardi's Pizzeria... but still haven't managed to fill in my food schedule as much as I did before in Boston - probably coz I let my husband take me around his fave places from the time he'd lived there. And the food did not disappoint!

We're not meeting as many friends this time round. My cousins who I expected to hang around with in the city are travelling elsewhere, and I only have two evenings booked, one with a couple we've hung out with before, one to meet a cousin who I'd grown up with but drifted from once college took over our lives. We managed to connect twice since I moved here and I was pleasantly surprised to pick up where we left off, like all those years didn't happen.

I'm looking for a nice spot where I could meet her; my husband's meeting her for the first time and we really need to catch up on more than family news.

I'm also trawling through my aunt's pics to pick out a few good places, Chelsea's Market seems promising. I dont know if Coney Island's going to be a good idea given the horrible windy weather.

So, any tips for me? Any cool, hip places that do not need reservations on Christmas eve?

The Gift of Sisters

We spent almost an hour talking yesterday, longer than we've talked after her wedding. She told me about her job and that she is planning to leave it after six months given the stress of it. She might again settle to her freelancing from home but as of now, I'm pleasantly surprised that she finds equal amounts of joy as she does stress in this new job. She works in a tiny little, half-residential building owned by the people employing her. She takes a rickshaw to work and comes back home in a tum tum which is like a six seater vehicle - the kinds we've seen in the most remote villages outside Mumbai. During the day, she takes turns with the other employees to make twice-a-day tea or coffee. Her days are quite busy and when she comes back home, she often has an assignment or two, something her husband doesn't like but puts up with. She tries hard to juggle home life - they're temporarily living with in-laws until their new home is ready - and work as well as snatch a few days so she could visit our parents in Mumbai.

The one thing L is that I'm not is methodical. Her finances have a tighter rein and she always knows her bank balance to the last penny despite a healthy interest in shopping for clothes, shoes, books, etc. Even while cooking, it's a snap for her to learn technique, while I'm often slow and bumbling even while learning how to cup or spread dough to make a paratha. Our maid at my mother's home taught us both the same thing and yet, she picked it up so much faster. She is always precise and whatever she makes a few times will always have the consistency I can only dream about.

On this visit to my mother's, she made buns that are a speciality in Konkani cuisine. That is something both our MILs make yet, L could replicate the same thing at my mom's place while I know that I will master it only if I make it on my own a few times. These are flat, spongy buns deep-fried to a golden brown - a bit like a deflated doughnut. She will pass me the recipe and I'm sure I'm going to take my own time until I muster up enough energy and courage to make a batch myself.

I love to indulge in a new recipe every now and then - it doesnt matter if its complicated or simple and earthy. At times, even the games I play online inspire me to make a particular dish - it's all these cooking games with the recipes that I wonder were made just for the game but the idea of some of them is amazing. But I take my time - gather recipes, then look for ingredients and make do if I don't have some of them. I remember the first time I cooked a pasta in white sauce (mushroom alfredo) - it took my breath away to realise I made a dish that I'd always ordered in restaurants.

But my sister's accomplishments remind me that I could try and develop some techniques while I'm living here. There's a great oven, enough for casseroles, quiches, breads and all the puddings in the world. This weekend I might make a roast chicken or lamb (doesn't hurt to dream), get boules or baguettes from the only French bakery in town and make a mocha pudding richer than an emperor. If I do forget, just remind me that I said I would. Or merely whisper "buns" and I might just start at once.