Gone with the wind

The movie?? No no, it is about ma favorite topic… Me!!

I was born with this inferiority complex…. That I would never be a 6 foot tall hunk, muscles popping and the ladies ogling (you know, the stereotype!)

Each time I see a guy who fits the bill, I go mad with frustration and each time I see a female who is an inch taller than I am, I am on the verge of tears! Why God? Why? Why did you make me so short? Why couldn’t you add just an eeny weeny 5 inches more to my dwarf frame eh? Like most prayers sent skywards this one too returns with an “un-opened… return-to-shorty” typed in bold.

And to add insult to injury I was born thin. Emaciated-and-short in a boy’s school is no laughing matter. You always ended up with the support role. Anybody who felt like whacking you up (which was quite often) would in all probability, whack you up. To live through those 10 years, I had to grow nails, some really fast legs and teeth that could bite through hippo hides. And what’s more, even on the days you won the battle, the war was lost when the vanquished scathingly comments “bah! He fights like a girl, all tooth and nails, why don’t you join Mount Carmel girl’s school eh??” And the victor’s smile is wiped off!

Of all the screwed up comments I’ve had to put up with (sack-of-bones was just the beginning!) “yevanae, onnu oothiyal paranne pokumello” (a wind could blow him off) was the most insulting. I mean, unlike the other taunts this one was a blatant lie!

I did pull-ups, I played basketball, I bugged my parents to buy me wonder shoes which would magically increase your height, I pestered doctor relatives to give me steroids and I even (hold your breath) prayed!! But nothing worked. It is in your genes (and your heels) you know. I ended up 5 inches shorter than expectations.

Fortunately, I did not stay thin for long after my engineering. Some metabolic miracle (read aging) happened and suddenly mine was no longer the high-input, high-output system that it once was. The output started dimming and the input started growing around my tummy. I don’t know many people who would be pleased to have a round tummy, but I am one of them. In Malayalam we call it “thara-vaaditham”.

But 3 years down the line, with a protruding tummy, an intruding chest and skinny limbs, I had this wonderful idea… Get a 6-pack!. So what if my genes denied me my rightful 6 foot height? I could cheat them with my 6-pack. Revenge, sweet revenge! It was ten years late in the coming, but then better late than never.

So, off I went and joined this gym. Rs.500 joining fee, Rs.250 monthly fee, the instructor said. I waived my card without batting an eye. Ha! 750 rupees for a 6 pack… I would pay an arm and a leg for it! (Skinny ones, that is). The routine was fairly straight forward. Get up at 6 A.M in the morning, put on the track suit, jog to the gym, warm up exercises, jump up, jump down, spread out limbs, tuck in belly, look in the mirror, wipe out that constipated-look-on-weight-lift, cycle, die… err sorry I mean rest, drag your sorry ass back home, shower, put on nice clothes, office, work, eat, sleep, gym.

“ethra nalla nadaaatha swanpnangal!!*”. I haven’t ever seen the world at 6 A.M. In fact, I am not so sure it exists except in the realm of dreams at that uncivilized hour. This morning shift was a no-starter…:( I did it for one day, I did it for two days and then as lolan(our mega pinthiri) predicted, I did it on the third day on a purely metaphysical plane (read bed). Hey! stop smirking! I did it one more day than he predicted. It is definitely an achievement of no small proportion.

I shifted to evening shift but 6 P.M is really not a time for exercising. You are already tired, your non-existent mental strength is ah, well non-existent and motivation is in the pits. I persevered for exactly one week... Each day after working out, I would go and stand semi-nude in front of the mirror (ladies… control, control!!).

Protruding belly – Check
Intruding chest – Check
Non-existent shoulder muscles – Check
Skinny limbs – Check
Panting-like-a-dog-plus-constipated-look – Check
.
.
.
.
.
.
6-Pack – No check!!

Great progress huh? ok, ok, who am I trying to kid! As some parents are wont to say “nine ondakkunna samayathe oru vaazha nattirunengil…**” Mine was a fruitless labor. All of my 6-Packs has now joined together to form a consolidated sack.

It even brought out the poet in me.

It is no small honor,
To be lord of a manor,
Six sacks and bladder,
To hell with it, puttar!

Thus, I am currently the proud owner of a 6-sack*** body and a bruised ego thanks to lolan’s taunts of “I told you so!” Thankfully, with all the weight I am gaining around my tummy, “Gone with the wind” evokes no more dread!

*Such nice un-realizable dreams
**If I had planted a tree when I was making him... for the record "some parents" not equal to "my parents"!
***മലയാളത്തില്‍ "ചാക്ക്" എന്നും പറയും - Dialogue courtesy Samjith.