I beat anorexia funnyEver since I have gained control over my faculty of senses, I’ve known that my mother and her friends are obsessed with their weight and clothes. Usually both together.

My mother has recently started a job as a fitness instructor at a gym and so, is full of new ideas about her ‘optimum weight’ and ‘food diary.‘ She also thinks she’s really fat. Now, I’ve tried to be logical and reasonable. I told her that gyms don’t hire fat people and they hired her. Ergo, she’s not fat. You would think that’s easy enough, right? Simple? Perhaps, even obvious?

Yeeeah. No.

Which Kapra Should I Weaarrrrrrr?

Then there’s this odd fascination with cloth. Tailors. Laces. Colors. Dyers. The realm of ‘silay huay kapray‘ is beyond me and is one I fear to enter. I am the kind of girl who thinks a clean shirt, jeans and Converse is a fairly formal outfit. Trips to the tailor frighten me. (My father likes to hurry the tailor along by swinging his baseball bat around threateningly.)

The picking of cloth. It should be pink, it should be red, it should be a freaking rainbow.Oh wait, we have to buy buttons. Would you like the ugly buttons shaped like pearls or would you like the ugly buttons that are shaped like circles? You know, it doesn’t matter anyway, cause they’re all just really really ugly.

Now for the duppata! Would you like it to be pink? Or yellow? Or maybe yellow with pink dots in it? Or yellow with big pink dots in it? Pink with yellow lace around it?

And I completely forgot to buy five more yards of lace for that unbelievably wide hemline which will make you look like you’re eight months preggers. To China Lace Center!

Meray Tyre Dekho

Anyway, they’re horrid enough obsessions separately but when combined they are the terror of teatime conversations:

Aunty: Haye! Mainey itna gain kar lia hay!
Mother: Please *randomAunty*, tum tou patli dubli ho! Mein tou apnay optimum weight say TEEN (3) kg upar hoon!
Aunty: Nahein, apni kamar dekho. Patli kitni ho. Mein ziada moti hoon.
Mother: Tum nay reduce kia hay. Meray tyre daikho! *gestures towards non-existent layers of fat under designer print*
Aunty: *momentarily distracted, fingers material* Yeh chiffon hay?

Okay.

  1. It’s not a competition.
  2. If someone is repeatedly telling you you’re not fat, Y U NO BELIEVE THEM?

Unless you look like that, Mothers, I’d recommend that you do a little exercise, eat what you want in small quantities and stop comparing the merits and demerits of boat necks in your head. ;)

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