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It takes a village indeed…

March 11, 2012

I have been short and stout since I was born, and ever since I grew up from being a little teapot, I have to take great care to remain plump and not become obese. It has not been easy. I suffer from the worst possible disorder that can hinder physical fitness – the lack of willpower.

Broad’s fitness timeline:

My father bought me skipping ropes one a dozen and they went straight to the bin.

Then he got me a weighing scale and it found home on top of a very tall cupboard (a much taller sister assisted). It still rests there.

I cycled my way to and fro school and that made me hungrier.

I went for walks in the neighborhood park but it had a tiny library inside and well, at least I walked to the park.

Then my parents thought if they were to be mean, say a few negative things about my body, the hurt I might  feel may motivate me to lose weight. They must have forgotten how hurt works for uber sensitive people – it makes them more sensitive plus defensive. They just stop caring. I just did.

(Somewhere the shards of those barbs created a few holes in my self-esteem and I have been trying since then to fill those holes. Cue to therapist – mommy-daddy issues).

When I moved out of the house and to my college, I was surrounded by the  most beautiful women. They had real waists where they tucked in their shirts inside their pants. That inspired me and I discovered gyms.

But it was short-lived. I realized that treadmill is the most lonely place in the entire world. Also, all that walking doesn’t take you anywhere.

I did yoga for an year under the guidance of a teacher who was the most caring and patient ever. I am not an easy student, I tend to  throw tantrums. He weathered it all and encouraged me still. I loved power yoga exercises but would hate doing the slow breathing ones. Once, I fell asleep during one of the meditative sessions. He jokingly said, “You have achieved nirvana already”. We both decided I should take a break and return when I feel like doing all of it in the way it has to be done.

My ex-boss is one of the more amazing women I will ever meet. She introduced me to dance classes, forced a two-left-feet me to join them and I did that for two years. I stopped last year-end because there are only these many dance classes you can go to and still not be able to dance.

(In any stage show, there might be an idiot somewhere at the back who misses a step. Every single time, that idiot was me. And I don’t exaggerate, I have it all on videos).

Last month I joined aerobics but I just wasn’t able to get up in the mornings. I am a night owl and those super fast crowded aerobics classes need vigilance to distinguish ‘right’ from ‘left’ so that one doesn’t bump into people. I became the much frowned upon random variable. I haven’t quit it yet. Every now and then, I get a call from one of the instructors, at 7 in the morning, asking me to be up and about and come for the class. Every now and then, I feel guilty and go.

I am considering artistic yoga these days. And then I will exhaust all my exercise options.

The end.

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. March 13, 2012 4:40 pm

    I started artistic yoga (Bharat Thakur) again this month, after many months of sitting on my ass. And I tell you, I think I’m already fitting my jeans more curvily. Join, join! Treadmill, agreed: most lonely place. I’ve got cracking also on these ipod-less morning walks.. and well, it’s good. Feels good. Helps clear the head, nahi?

  2. March 16, 2012 7:57 am

    The treadmill indeed is a lonely place and I too am considering yoga..but i just lack the willpower to get up and even find out the details..

  3. May 23, 2012 3:36 am

    Knock! Knock!

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