JOIN USBig women, you are beautiful,’ crooned the singer in the background, and listening to his dulcet tones, I was in ecstasy. Yes, this was it. The affirmation that all was not over for an over-the-hill ‘XXL sizer’. And then I looked down upon the bed. Before me lay an oversized plastic packet with the words, ‘Hello Kitty, Paris Extra Large’ written upon it in bold lettering, and yes, how it did hurt that all-too-sensitive ego of mine! Was this meant as a rejoinder: ‘Well, big lady, you need to cut down that extra fat.’?
And, who indeed was the person who had sent me this wrapped case of emotions? It was my sister-in-law’s relative (twice removed), on the occasion of one of those big fat North-Indian weddings.
Opening the packet, I saw an XXL salwar kurta, big enough for me to swim within, and causing me to flinch, sure as ever. But then, I had certainly brought this upon myself, what with not listening to my wise mother’s words of wisdom, as I binged on fried food, pizzas, burgers, shakes...
I took it easy till I got to the point where I was eating more and exercising lesser and lesser, till I had gone to the point of coming up with a ridiculous excuse for not exercising — “I am a girl, and girls don’t need to exercise.”
And yes, while on this topic, I had polished off an entire packet of biscuits, eaten some leftover porridge, an idli, and two slices of bread. Then, horrified at what I had done, I looked down at my protruding midriff. That brought me to a standstill. I looked reflectively at the by-now-empty packet of biscuits. I was reminded of the plight of the countless starving the world over, and here I was, stuffing my face. Oh! How could I be so insensitive?
While still on the topic of ‘big’... I had stepped into a mall and was admiring some Western-style tops. Exquisitely tailored, they were a wonder to behold, and would surely be a prize catch for anyone. Just as I was ‘oohing’ and ‘aahing’, and keeping them against my rather chubby frame to see how I looked, a young salesgirl, who looked as if she was a walking, talking ad for a shampoo, looked at me, sizing me up, and kindly suggested that I should try the XXL section. These dresses were meant ‘for S and M’. Boy! Was my ego punctured!
Still, having no choice, I did make my way there, and what did I find? Oversized, billowing tops resembling maternity gowns. Surely, these wouldn’t do justice to me, or make me look svelte and sexy, though I must admit that would be quite a task for any garment.
I looked doubtfully at one black top with some garish flowers floating about, and tried to visualise myself in it. A vision of a gigantic sumo wrestler look-alike swathed in black, looking all the more rotund, had me shivering.
Startled, I was recalled to the present by the salesgirl’s incessant clearing of the throat. A bit embarrassed, I looked her way. “Shall I put this one aside for you, Ma’am,” she asked politely. I nodded vehemently in the negative as I looked at the top. I had to admit that it was time for me to cut myself down to size, quite literally. Of course, that would be a humongous task, but I would do anything rather than face those bemused looks by these dear salesgirls at the malls, and the half-laughing eyes of my juniors in the colony
Yes, that salwar presented to me by that relative had worked its magic, alright, and the XXL aunty ji was on a roll, working her way to a fitter moi.