Hiatus Explained - My Life is Busy and Important
Apologies, dear faithful readers for this unplanned hiatus! I hope you have been wondering where I've been all this while. I can imagine that your month is simply not the same without having new posts to read. And sure, re-reading my old posts always give you some new insight, a hidden meaning you hadn't discovered earlier but there's nothing quite like devouring a new post now is there? In my defense, I did try to stick to a deadline between posts but let's just say that like my wit and waistline, it increased steadily.
In the first week of December, I organized an awesome, unforgettable, epic bachelorette party for a dear bride-to-be. My beautiful co-host who paid attention when not flipping her hair back and forth to Tu mera hero (Song of End-2011-Beginning-2012) and I received numerous compliments causing my large-ish sized head to expand even more. Scientific fact - compliments make your head float higher than helium. So there I was, walking in my 'safe-for-partying' wedges when I began sinking, my knees weren't holding me up and I went from Cloud 9 to ground 0. Ladies, wedges may seem like your friends but if the shoe is a size big, you will find yourself receiving an exfoliating pebble scrub on your face whether you like it or not. One would think that after being confined to the bed, I would write but I had better things to do, like starting to watch The Big Bang Theory (finally). It's funny but I don't see the fuss about it, a bit like How I Met Your Mother ('So kids, in the summer of 2017, I adopted you two, continued to have failed relationships and unfinished business with Robin and become more and more like Ross Gellar. The end'). I allowed my brain to turn to mush along with my ankle.
With all the wannabe-NRI and 'based abroad' kids coming home for Christmas began the unending terrace/garden/balcony/veranda parties. This called for my search for perfect winter boots, a search which took me to places darker than The Girl in Yellow Boots. My search brought to the forefront cruel and harsh realities I had suppressed - I heard the sentence I've been hearing since I was three years old in Bata - 'foot size too big' causing my brother to snicker Bigfoot behind me. In one shop, the shop assistant told me that my calves were too fat. This might cause most girls to not eat for a month but not yours truly. I would like to point out at this time that contrary to popular belief, the boot which wasn't even that stylish now that I think about it simply slipped off my foot and on that assistant's face. I don't control my calf, the fat reserves control it. Despite my threats I did not go to that assistant wearing my new boots that I don't even need to unzip to wear to tell him that my feet and legs are average Indian size (I think that's the phrase used for anything overweight in India. My suitcase isn't 45 kgs, it's average Indian size!). I took the high road. Wearing new boots. With fur inside. Fake but warm. Kinda like most people from Delhi (Bazinga! BBT reference, you are welcome).
Once the boots were on, the intricate planning for New Year's Eve began. Conversations begun from 'Well, not that having everyone dress up as a Hobbit-wizard in Hogwarts isn't a good idea...' to 'Yes, decorating the trees with ice to make it seem like a winter wonderland is a great idea. Delhiites are very prepared for the cold'. Let's just say that I mastered the art of diplomacy in those days. I also, learnt to value my mother and her godlike powers of party planning. Did you know how important cutlery and crockery are to a party? The party was thankfully a roaring success with only few casualties of high heels and of course my old foe - pebbles.
In the new year of 2012, began the preparations for my cousin's wedding, my friend's wedding (the aforementioned bachelorette) and my wedd...I mean birthday. Don't you wish. After twelve months of my friends waiting, I turned a year older, the same age as them and balance was restored. Not that it hasn't stopped me from calling them old.
And this brings me to what I've been most busy with - weddings. A friend and faithful reader who once lovingly wrote that this blog can make one's eyes bleed blood (on his imaginary blog) called me a professional wedding guest. Hey, don't hate me because I'm popular. Be nicer to people. Do I enjoy weddings? Well, the build-up to weddings is exciting, with the actual events cause mild hysteria particularly due to outfits, anxiety that I won't know anyone, hunger for snacks, unease because the snack was bad, pain in the face from smiling too much at aunties and uncles but most importantly, feeling cold. At the end of a wedding however, there is a hollow emptiness where the Chicken Tikka would've been only to be replaced by the prompt next day Mobile Uploads on Facebook.
In answer to the two likely questions in your mind - no, I am not next in line. I do not know where the line is but you of course do. And no, the weddings are not over yet. One of my closest friends is getting married soon in Bollywood, I mean Bombay (Mumbai to you plebs) and while there will be a slight gap in between posts, I will try as hard as I would if I promised/mother-sweared to write soon.
In the first week of December, I organized an awesome, unforgettable, epic bachelorette party for a dear bride-to-be. My beautiful co-host who paid attention when not flipping her hair back and forth to Tu mera hero (Song of End-2011-Beginning-2012) and I received numerous compliments causing my large-ish sized head to expand even more. Scientific fact - compliments make your head float higher than helium. So there I was, walking in my 'safe-for-partying' wedges when I began sinking, my knees weren't holding me up and I went from Cloud 9 to ground 0. Ladies, wedges may seem like your friends but if the shoe is a size big, you will find yourself receiving an exfoliating pebble scrub on your face whether you like it or not. One would think that after being confined to the bed, I would write but I had better things to do, like starting to watch The Big Bang Theory (finally). It's funny but I don't see the fuss about it, a bit like How I Met Your Mother ('So kids, in the summer of 2017, I adopted you two, continued to have failed relationships and unfinished business with Robin and become more and more like Ross Gellar. The end'). I allowed my brain to turn to mush along with my ankle.
With all the wannabe-NRI and 'based abroad' kids coming home for Christmas began the unending terrace/garden/balcony/veranda parties. This called for my search for perfect winter boots, a search which took me to places darker than The Girl in Yellow Boots. My search brought to the forefront cruel and harsh realities I had suppressed - I heard the sentence I've been hearing since I was three years old in Bata - 'foot size too big' causing my brother to snicker Bigfoot behind me. In one shop, the shop assistant told me that my calves were too fat. This might cause most girls to not eat for a month but not yours truly. I would like to point out at this time that contrary to popular belief, the boot which wasn't even that stylish now that I think about it simply slipped off my foot and on that assistant's face. I don't control my calf, the fat reserves control it. Despite my threats I did not go to that assistant wearing my new boots that I don't even need to unzip to wear to tell him that my feet and legs are average Indian size (I think that's the phrase used for anything overweight in India. My suitcase isn't 45 kgs, it's average Indian size!). I took the high road. Wearing new boots. With fur inside. Fake but warm. Kinda like most people from Delhi (Bazinga! BBT reference, you are welcome).
Once the boots were on, the intricate planning for New Year's Eve began. Conversations begun from 'Well, not that having everyone dress up as a Hobbit-wizard in Hogwarts isn't a good idea...' to 'Yes, decorating the trees with ice to make it seem like a winter wonderland is a great idea. Delhiites are very prepared for the cold'. Let's just say that I mastered the art of diplomacy in those days. I also, learnt to value my mother and her godlike powers of party planning. Did you know how important cutlery and crockery are to a party? The party was thankfully a roaring success with only few casualties of high heels and of course my old foe - pebbles.
In the new year of 2012, began the preparations for my cousin's wedding, my friend's wedding (the aforementioned bachelorette) and my wedd...I mean birthday. Don't you wish. After twelve months of my friends waiting, I turned a year older, the same age as them and balance was restored. Not that it hasn't stopped me from calling them old.
And this brings me to what I've been most busy with - weddings. A friend and faithful reader who once lovingly wrote that this blog can make one's eyes bleed blood (on his imaginary blog) called me a professional wedding guest. Hey, don't hate me because I'm popular. Be nicer to people. Do I enjoy weddings? Well, the build-up to weddings is exciting, with the actual events cause mild hysteria particularly due to outfits, anxiety that I won't know anyone, hunger for snacks, unease because the snack was bad, pain in the face from smiling too much at aunties and uncles but most importantly, feeling cold. At the end of a wedding however, there is a hollow emptiness where the Chicken Tikka would've been only to be replaced by the prompt next day Mobile Uploads on Facebook.
In answer to the two likely questions in your mind - no, I am not next in line. I do not know where the line is but you of course do. And no, the weddings are not over yet. One of my closest friends is getting married soon in Bollywood, I mean Bombay (Mumbai to you plebs) and while there will be a slight gap in between posts, I will try as hard as I would if I promised/mother-sweared to write soon.
Comments
hahahahahahahahahahahaha, love it <3
Also as a side note please add me on facebook, my name is Manpreet Dabang Gulati. I have sent you a request already and then maybe you can post lovingly about me too.