A Weighty Question!

 

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There I was, dressed to the nines, having chosen the outfit, the accessories and the jewellery with care, because I was at a wedding, pre-Covid-19. Those were the days when weddings consisted of a million people glittering like Christmas trees, holding brilliantly wrapped up gifts, or envelopes with a coin stuck on them which contained crisp notes within.

My gift was also within an envelope carefully created from an old wedding card which was too pretty to throw away. My husband calls my blood type the ‘magpie’ type, which is another name for ‘B Positive’, I guess. Hoarding runs in our family, be it old letters, greeting cards from people whose names have been forgotten, tiny notes, photographs that have yellowed and look like nothing on earth and relics that could be sold for a fortune.

The mania does not stop there. I have crockery from the time we got married which, after 36 years of wedlock, have never been used – a dinner set which was a gift, a tea set which was too precious to use, little bowls and mugs that would be of use one day (that day will come, I promise!), and shelves overflowing with runners, napkins and table cloths which would have worked when we were in the Army, but are of minimal use in civilian life. (Given the term, I would have assumed that we should have turned more civil after we left the Army! Unfortunately, not!)

As I sat in the audience and witnessed the wedding in all its glory, there were a few highlights that wowed the crowd. The instruments, the glorious stage décor, gorgeously attired people and of course, the hero and the heroine of the hour. Just as we leant forward to enjoy the view, there appeared a number of jean-clad backsides in front of the stage, and covered whatever we needed to see; the photographers, with their tripods, their flash boys, and a few ‘part of the paraphernalia’ folk who wanted to see the wedding close up.

As the couple exchanged garlands, and the groom tied the mangalsutra around the bride’s neck, all we could hear were the commands from the photographers about ‘going slow’ and ‘turning this side’. I craned my neck and tried to peer through the cracks, (sorry, wrong word!), the gaps, because I had no hope of ever seeing the video of the wedding later, since I was in no way related to the bride or the groom. An enthusiastic aunt had insisted that I tag along since she did not want to attend the wedding alone. Needless to say, she had disappeared the moment she entered the hall, leaving me on my own, to negotiate the thorny path of having to explain who on earth I was to a few curious folks.

Suddenly, there appeared a familiar face, grinning like the Cheshire cat when she spotted me.

“Am I happy to see you!” was her first sentence, loud and clear. “I know no one here!”

“Join the gang!” I muttered, smiling back in relief. She plonked herself on an empty chair next to me, and my relief lasted two seconds. Having taken a cursory glance at the stage, she said, “As usual, it’s bottoms up, right?” The music suddenly grew softer and her next question echoed round the hall.

“Have you put on weight since I saw you last?”

I blanched, because heads swivelled around in an instant, looking at me with gimlet stares, as I wondered if I could burrow into a hole of my own making. The foghorn carried on, “Yes, you were always ‘cheeky’, even when you were little.”

My cheeks had always been a topic of conversation. When I was tiny, every person in the room would pinch them till I was pink in the face. When I grew up, I was always the ‘cheekiest’ person in the room.

It was at that moment that I decided that I should have some readymade answers to the weighty question.

I turned to my foghorn friend and said, “Well, isn’t it the case of the pot calling the kettle back? You look rather prosperous yourself!”

That diffused the situation and made me feel better.

So, now when the weighty question is thrown at me, I just say,

“I think you are confusing my weight with my personality, you know?”

Or, if it is to family and close friends, I say smugly,

“More of me to love, right?”

Some of the time, I smile and say, “Really? When was the last time you visited your oculist?”

And the all-important retort, “I did see a picture of your son/daughter in America. All those burgers and colas have made an impact on him/her.”

Of course, all these come backs make no sense if the person receiving them has the hide of the proverbial rhinoceros.

What I have realised is that it is easier to comment, than to compliment. Body image has become all important, but what folks do not fathom is that the whole world does not need to be populated by perfect looking specimens. What makes us all unique are the quirks, the eccentricities, the different body shapes and the personalities we possess. Without them, the world would become a rather boring place. (Think of all those little green extra-terrestrial men running around!)

I still remember as a child loving those warm hugs given to me by my grandmother and my aunts who were on the plump side. May their tribe increase! 

And even as I write this post, the weight/wait continues…

  

 

 

 

 


Comments

  1. As always, you tackle a 'heavy' topic with light hearted humour that makes this an interesting read. A totally enjoyable relatable piece of work. Well done

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    Replies
    1. Thank you so much, Bhavana! I am thrilled that you enjoyed it. :)

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  2. So so well written - hilarious and hits the nail on the head. As usual, you have outdone yourself 😀

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, my Pincha! So happy to hear that! <3

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