This baby loves sweets and grease. It also loves chocolates and cakes and everything that is making me put on weight. I have graduated from looking like a cow to a whale now. I often wonder what animal it is going to be next. Anyway, the baby has a special liking for Ferro Rocher chocolates and makes me feel blue and dull if some sugar is not injected into the bloodstream ASAP. Of course, I hate chocolates and am the most health conscious person on earth. It’s all because of the baby. See, I am not like other typical moms that will say, “No, Bunty. No chocolates. Eat your salad. Now!”. I earnestly believe in empowerment of kids and all that.
At the prenatal classes I’ve signed up for, I’ve been asked to produce evidence of the baby’s crab-loving-chocolate-loving-behavior and every day I have to come up with something creative to camouflage the damning evidence that this baby has a sweet tooth. Like I have had to replace the double chocolate fudge that the baby insisted on eating last week with green salad because I didn’t want people to faint on seeing the chart. You see, I hate fibbing, but have no choice now. The things I am having to do for this baby already !
I had a glucose tolerance test (to test the blood sugar) a few days back and am supposedly a prime candidate for diabetes, thanks to my slightly abnormal blood glucose levels. More needle-poking will follow to confirm the fact that the baby can’t eat sweets for the next three months.. Of course, I don’t mind. I am just sad that the baby will not get to eat its favourite food any longer. Poor thing! The last time I had a glucose tolerance test, I was sick of the number of times they poked and prodded me with the needle (six times technically in a span of three hours for the curious minded people). But it wasn’t that simple. The lab attendant couldn’t find my vein, so she actually ended up prodding me 15-20 times till my arms were blue. And she kept chatting away with an attendant friend of hers about how her in-laws ill treated her as she twisted the needle inside me. I really wanted to tell her at one point to stop the Ekta-kapoor-serial-type story and get on with the job. But secretly I must confess that I really enjoyed eavesdropping on that story. Good time pass, it was. So all that pain was actually worth it.
The incessant rains and dull, grey skies in this part of the world are getting on my nerves. The first few showers were a welcome break from the heat and I wanted to sing some song extolling the virtues of the rain and dance in a white dress like a heroine from a Tamil movie. But after almost three months of rains, slush, horrible bumpy roads, water stagnation and stinky clothes that just refuse to dry, I am plain tired of it all. The image of me singing and dancing(waddling rather) in the rain is frankly not that appealing either. Give me some sunshine NOW! Before I crack up.
And then, there are the shifting blues. I’ve hoarded so much stuff over the last few years , that our cleaning activity has been going on and on like some five-year plan. I swear I’ll puke if I see another plastic bag containing old broken cell phones, assorted papers and junk whose origins I am not privy to. The chap’s idea of shifting, of course, is simple. Call the packers- shove everything into boxes- shift the godamn stuff to the new house. I wish I could think like that and not be so anal by insisting on doing a SWOT analysis of every single item we have. Every time I have to throw something away, my heart just bleeds. How does one reconcile with parting of stuff one has lovingly hoarded over the years? I’ll send you a bunch of cupcakes, if you come up with something brilliant that will ease my heartache.
While on the subject of cupcakes, looks like the cup-cake fever has finally hit Chennai. I bugged the chap to take me to a hip-looking shop called” The Cupcake factory” last week.The sign looked super cute and I had to check it out. Only when we went into the 50sqft space, did we realize that the sign was just meant to lure unsuspecting-middle-class-languishing-in-mid-life-crisis people like us.One look at the prices and I was about to faint.The chap wasn’t doing too good either. But then, there were other “young” things around, buying cakes by the dozen, so we decided to buy a token cupcake each and bitch about the place later.There is only so much unhip-ness one can exhibit while in the company of young-uns , and leaving a shop after looking at the price list is just epitome of uncool-ness. Thank God, we are not completely uncle-aunty-fied yet. But can somebody please tell me why a medium-sized cupcake with some frosting spread on top and a chunk of what tasted like strawberry jam inside should cost 100 bucks? No… seriously I would love to know.
Oh, have a nice week everyone and somebody please make the rains go away.. More cupcakes for the one that manages that feat :-)