Layers

I am hating. In present continuous tense, I am in the act of hating.

Standing in front of the mirror, I am exuding hatred. The kind that would put the biggest Modi haters to shame. I stare at me with 3 chins, chubby cheeks, elephant arms and thunder thighs.

The eyes run over the reflection with a critical gait, and every part seems to cringe as they pass over it. Never, is this dress' elegance going to come through, with all the layers stuffed underneath. No one is going to come and compliment this reflection on being pretty. Or worse, someone is going to compliment on how well the hair has been done, unlike the rest. And photographs, best be the photographer of the day so that nothing creeps its way online.

I am hating, in present continuous!

Ever since I have left college, every year has added a kilo on me. Just like I have added meeting with people from different cultures, trekking on snowcapped mountains, mapping the night skies, running the marathon, dancing the nights, studying and a few salaries to my kitty. Every year end highlight and new year resolution has talked about weight gain and loss goals. Every time I visit home someone tells me how my beauty is diminishing one kilo at a time. I see my friends subtly appraising me, probably feeling a little better about themselves. And of course, I see men avoiding eye contact, for the fear I might take it as a sign of encouragement.

There are advantages of course! I feel less cold.

So I have been hating, for a while now and I am looking for a cure. Exercise, diet, activity, did you think? I think you got it wrong.

I am looking for a cure on not obsessing over the superficial. On looks no! On acceptance no, on norms no, on objectification no, on face value no!

I am hating, in present continuous, my fickle mind and its fickle aims. Not my fat, not my layers!

P.S. One has fat, one isn't fat. Just like one has chicken pox, one isn't chicken pox.. You see what I did there!