So some serious posts were written and the publish button was pressed. The 3 faithful readers who came to time pass here also scurried away. Since inception the official stand of this blog has been “I write for myself and I write what is important to me. I do not care what anyone thinks. And I am above number of page views and number of comments.” Obviously increasingly I suspect this vision has come true and I am the only one reading this blog.
Remember how I had joined the gym to lose the kilos? Well I didn’t lose them. Maybe it has something to do with the fact I had only joined the gym and rarely bestowed my presence inside the gym. Or maybe something with the fact the days I did go in, I cheated by doing 2 reps of 12 ab crunches than 2 reps of 15 ab crunches. The instructor never commented. After all it was my gut hanging out not his. Or it could also be that after 20 minutes on treadmill I would saunter out to the Sweet Chariot/Baskin Robbins stall and proceed to stuff my mouth with rewards for my diligence in sweating it out.
So in an effort to find something more interesting than watching oneself in full length mirror and from different angles huff and puff on a treadmill I joined aerobics. Dance aerobics to be precise. This was a major risk considering Sunny Deol and your truly were given equal amounts of grace and skills when it comes to shaking the booty. In the first class as everyone else moved to precision and the instructor twisted his body into strange steps at alarming speeds and rhythm I was randomly throwing my hands and feet around to match them and in the process almost ended up slapping and stamping on the poor fellow next to me. If you thought the embarrassment would have stopped me from further visits you should have asked instead about the new muscles which my body generated over night for the sole purpose of causing me agony through constant ache and how much effort it took for morning ablutions the next day. But with a will as unshakable as Mayawati is to become India’s next PrimeMinister I found myself paying for a 3 month membership. Today as we were cooling down and the man asked us to twist ourselves into various imitations of a pretzel the song that wafted in through the speakers was “Sau dard hain..sau rahtein..” Coincidence?
As I was climbing up the stairs while coming home today, the neighbour was carrying her cute, tiny baby around. In a fit of never seen before neighbourly affection (more because the baby was truly the big eyed choo chweet variety) I proceeded to make random faces at the baby. Although he was clearly too small to understand any kind of language, my neighbour proceeded to teach him “Aunty ko hi bolo”. Aunty! Aunty hogi teri…wait a sec. I am 24 years older than that kid. Auntyhood has arrived. Truly and completely.