I am reading Eat.Pray.Love by Elizabeth Gilbert though the focus of my life at present seems to be consumption of food like its going out of fashion. Last Sunday at a lunch with friends I was meeting after a long time, I ate so much I felt the need to be physically lifted and carried to a waiting auto. Right now as I type this, 3 slices of Dominoes best are doing a merry dance with a glass of Coca Cola in my stomach. (As soon as I hit publish button FF people will banish me from their group)
Weekend was much fun. I discovered Irla market in Andheri and went berserk shopping. Now I have a pair of shoes for 300 bucks which look exactly like my 1k+ Catwalk pair, but in a different color. Of course I can never ever take them off at someone’s door or temple etc because the underfeet area displays the brand name proudly as “Naicy Collection”.
Also Mumbai is on fire. I mean yes I lived in Delhi for 18 years and then in Kochi for another 4 so don’t tell me about any inability to bear the suns rays. But Mumbai makes this superb combination of humidity and sun that you just want to attach an AC on your head and roam around. And to get squished in that weather in a local. When you like a fool are dressed in black full sleeved layered top, jeans and sneakers can make you bid good bye to your senses very quickly. (Why I was dressed like that? Apart from trying to put together a hip hop look, yeah baaarfff…I assumed the entire country has Bangalorean weather).
4 weeks of aerobics later I hop onto the weighing scales to find surprise …I weigh exactly the same as I have done for the past 5 months. Which if I were the count-your-blessings type of personality should have me jumping at the thought of pizza slices and chocolate brownies that have not shown up yet. But me being me I was upset at all the hard work of slapping people dancing nearby and having my toes trampled by other newbies coming to a naught. I have no clue how to remove this plateau in weight loss and it’s bugging. It’s not like I am replacing them fat cells with lean muscles. Muffin top will soon apply for naturalization finishing 5 years of residence on the waist.
I am total celeb junkie. Like last week I bought a gossip mag because the cover said “Dino deceived me-Kelly Dorji finally speaks”. When I called up my friend Sur to pass on Kelly’s inner most thoughts ( as told to Stardust), all she said was Kelly who. Hmph!
Then again who can be stupid enough to buy 3 books at the airport book store? Who else but hehe..me?
So I have Eat,Pray, Love and The case of exploding mangoes( a Indo-Pak thriller, lets see how that plays out) and The Tipping Point by Prof. Obvious Malcolm Gladwell. Why do I keep falling for his pseudo scientific analysis?