Monday, October 26, 2009

Victoria Secret Model

Lingerie, in my opinion, is a waste of money. This is a billion dollar industry that plays on the sentiments of millions of women all over the world, who believe they will look better in their underwear when it's embellished with lace, lycra or a wire. Most men, at least in my knowledge, don't give a crap about a woman's underwear, as long as they can get what lies beneath. So why do women still indulge in this enticing piece of clothing? I think it makes us feel special and allows us the satisfaction of knowing that if we stripped down to our bare essentials, we'll still be desirable. Insecurity? Perhaps, but I think it has more to do with confidence and positive self image.

The fact that each and every one of the models who poses, semi-nude, in these ads are either less than eighteen and/or have an eating disorder, have the most unattainable bodies, and skin as flawless as a new born baby, should in of itself be a detterent. Think about it. How many women do you know in your life, who are near replicas of the beautiful teen goddesses we see in these lingerie ads? My count...none. Nearly every woman I know is either weight and height challenged, or has stretch marks, or is a combination of miss piggy and a dried prune. Yet, many of them indulge in the sensuous undergarments. Maybe I'm just a feminist at heart, but I would really like to see a Victoria Secret model look like a real woman.

So, it came as a shock when, standing in front of the mirror in my second skins, I declared to my husband that I was going to be a Victoria Secret model. Yes, he had the same reaction as you just did, he laughed, out loud. Why was this such a joke? I have a relatively fit body and could put any 22 ( alright 27) year old to shame. Of course having had 3 children has left my skin looking like a map of a Martian landscape, guaranteed to get you lost. Other than that, I don't see any difference in me and the skinny, stereotypical lingerie model. Maybe the legs aren't long and shapely as those chaddi clad tweenies, and the cellulite looks like a thin bag overfilled with marbles, but why was I, and women like me, being sidelined from mainstream industries like this. It just isn't fair! I have the attitude, the charisma, the face may need a little work but it can hold it's own when made up, I felt beautiful, had a great body image, and was as real as any woman you'd get. So why wasn't I the epitome of beauty, as seen on TV?

The disappointment at my husband's reaction, to my announcement, must have shown on my face. He stared at me for a good two minutes, and smiled. "Why would you want to be a Victoria Secret model, when you're already my Secret model?" That just put everything into perspective...I was going to one of the most beautiful women to this man and his children, no matter how many craters I accumulated or what my dress size was. And that's all I needed to double my physical confidence.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

I swear....

I'm not good with words. They just seem to come out all wrong. Ever been in an argument, when all you see is red and have spit foaming at the mouth, and every word that comes out of your cake hole is anything but coherent? That happens to me a lot, especially when I'm angry (No, not the red face and foaming spit). My problem is bigger...I swear! Not your run of the mill, cutesy slang. Full force profanity, sometimes with complete disregard to who's around me, is my area of expertise.

I have been known to verbally abuse (to the point of getting into a physical fight), people who have rubbed me the wrong way, especially on my off days. And have in many instances done this in front of my parents, husband, and on the rare (uncontrollable) occasion my kids. No, I'm not proud of myself, nor do I condone this kind of behavior. But I just don't know why I do it!! I blame it on my unconventional upbringing (YEAH YOU TWO...I"M BLAMING YOU!). I was never repremanded for cussing infront of my parents. One would think I would have been really scared of swearing in front of my dad (military guy), but no. I do remember him telling me once that it was rather unladylike to swear, but I told him I was as unladylike as they come. Never looked back since.

The last few years have become dramatically worse. I was under the deluded impression that as we grow older, we get more somber. In my case, the preservation of youth has taken an all new meaning. Now that I have kids of my own, I find myself trying to cut back the verbiage. Sometimes audibly talking myself out of swearing at some idiot for infraction on my sensibilities, as limited as they may be.

Road rage takes on a whole different persona. Ever been at a red light, being the first to stop and have everyone behind you honk, since they assume red means go? By the time I drive a short distance I've either resurrected someone's dead grandmother or nearly fractured my middle finger flipping people off. If I'm alone in the car, the sound of the radio is completely drowned out by a string of profane words aimed at, supposedly, educated people let loose on the road in a vehicle, with worse driving skills than mine (and that is no complement).

I've been doing some research on anger management and so far, have come up zilch. One school of thought is: if angry, let your feelings be shown. Another, touts the benefit of suppressing angry thoughts and channeling positive messages. Someone else suggests meditation to avoid the whole internal conflict issue altogether. BU*****T!!

Mark Twain put it best: 'When angry, count to four; when very angry, swear."
But why this realization now? Well, my dear husband is convinced that if I don't get a handle on my senses, I'm the next candidate for the Grim Reaper. I'd like to disagree, but I'm too much of a realist not to consider his advise. So I have taken it upon myself to find a solution to my possible untimely demise. I've started ignoring! As the old saying goes...Ignorance is Bliss, I'd rather be happy and ignorant for sixty seconds, than be angry and miserable for 1 minute.

Thursday, October 8, 2009

Karwa Chauth

Yesterday was my first real Karwa Chauth, since I'm now in Delhi. You know the festival, where women, ususally married, starve themselves for their husband's long life, albeit for a day. Women in the apartment complex, where we live, came together to offer prayers and conduct the traditional rituals related to this occasion. Even at work, my female, married colleagues spent a good deal of time gawking at each other's mehndi'd hands, sarees and god knows what else.

I don't know if it's just me, actually it's also my eldest daughter, who just can't get the whole thing. She put it the best way: 'why would anyone want to starve for the whole day for someone else?' I tried my level best to explain to the child that it has to do with commitment and love, (supposedly), but she just counter questioned: if you love some one, why would you starve yourself? Wouldn't that hurt them too? Couldn't argue with that! The next question was a little more difficult to answer, in front of her father: why is it just women who do the starving? As diplomatically as possible, I told her that it was tradition. Women were stronger and better at keeping the family bonds intact. I also explained that it wasn't just women who did the fasting, men did it too, now a days, which seemed to placate her some. Didn't want to go into the topic of gays also fasting for their significant others on Karwa Chauth. That's just a whole another can of worms I didn't want to deal with then.

I would have let it drop at that, except my child then proceeded to ask if I was doing this 'fasting' thing. Honestly, the thought of fasting itself scares me to a near unconscious state, and to do it for something as monumental as showing my devotion to my husband, definitly doesn't call for fasting. So, I politely said no, the husband sitting in front of me, and finished with "I don't need to starve myself to show your father I love him". Now that really seemed to please her, but all I got from the spouse was a dramatic roll of the eyes. So much for heart felt emotion.

So, Karwa Chauth was like any other day for me. I worked, shopped, played with the kids, made dinner, worked out, stayed up with my husband, and all without the added stress of being food and water deprived. That would have made me unlovable.

Sunday, October 4, 2009


I was convinced I was made of sterner stuff. But that blew up in my face when a friend introduced me to something that not only gives me a high, but has me going back for more. Damn, I thought I was above all these petty things after I left college. Even in those days, of my long forgotten youth, I was strong enough to say no. Or maybe, I just wasn't curious enough.

I've been around the world and tried a few things here and there, which, frankly, couldn't hold my juvenile attention for too long. Now, as I grow older and, perhaps, more focused, I find myself drawn to things I would never have considered before. Although I must admit, the prospect of having an influence that grabs your attention and desire so compellingly, has always facinated me. Like I said, I thought I was above it all.

Oh my God, Ma!! It's definitely not what you's worse! This overwhelming need to get a fix every single day is starting to get to me. I tried once to stop, stayed away for a whole 35 hour, 4 minutes and 23 seconds. Thought it was going to a piece of cake. Man! was I wrong!! I couldn't sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, it felt like the anticipated fear of when you can see a huge lead weight dangling over your head, and you don't know if it's going to fall. The day was even worse. Every waking moment was spent in dreaming about how I felt when I had had a hit. It was excruciating!

I've finally come to the realization that I'm better composed and prepared to face this big bad world only after I've had a hit. Yes, I'm rendered inaccessible for a good half hour once I'm in my zone. But this is me. I feel better every time I attain a new level. I don't think I'm going to give this up too soon, I like it too much. I just wanted to let the world know, that things like this can happen to anyone. I'm not special or above it all and this has just been a wake up call, to see myself as human (not talking in extra-terrestrial terms). I'd tell you not to get involved or try it but I'd be doing a disservice to society in general. But if you should try it, don't ever say I didn't warn you!

Who knows, maybe you're stronger than I am. But if not, come be my neighbor on Farmville.