Fat to Fit- From a Rookie’s lens
While putting on weight by an hour (all thanks to my Punjabi genes and some mad people making food innovations all around), one day I suddenly got into this mode of self-realisation. Credits to the glorified fitness videos all over Insta, or hot and sexy Malaika Arora flaunting her perfect bums and boobs at the age of 50, or some friends giving gyan on how important fitness is or closer to home- those dresses which don’t fit me anymore and made me feel like my net worth (which proudly was in my clothes until now) is depleting every day.
My self-shame went to rabbit hole when I bumped over this fitness blog which claimed to empower women using power of sweat with a tag line reading “with chiselled and waxed body, everything looks million bucks” (while I was so much in sync with Bhumi Pednekar giving importance to right skill set in Dum laga ke- she also betrayed me losing 35kgs at the end). Despite that I still judge Sara Ali khan on her acting skills- definitely those sexy shorts look sexier on her now while we were so comparable before with at-least 2 visible tyres.
Amidst all this internal chaos, self-pity and external pressure – I gave up and ended up joining this renowned fitness studio.
Next morning- woke up with a heavy heart (don’t even ask on number of snoozes I put through) and picking up my racks I finally drove to place. I could only feel less guilty about never being conscious of my bulges and love handles than ever in the parking lot itself- damn- look at the number of cars which were driven to get people to a place to run (ahaan -ironies of so called evolved human life). I was still very determined to join this so called empowered fit tribe in this buzzing room full of colours, equipment and music.
Looking around for a glance till the class starts- to my RIGHT and to my LEFT. Clearly there were 2 types of people. On my right were these sexy fit girls wearing those cleavage revealing, stringy back sports bra paired with funky neon shorts (Damn why was I was only ogling Malaika’s and Jahnvi’s trips to gyms until now) . With those headbands, wrist bands and some towels in hand- they reminded me of kids on first bench with oiled hair, closed collar button and neatly strangled tie straight to impress the teacher.
Matching them were boys/men with hot bods (to my imagination the abs were minimum 6) and sexy shorts – only if looks could kill (Now I know how did Hritik afforded the alimony- HRX launch is such a huge success in the country) . Damn- while these girls some gave me solid inferiority complex the men on other hand looked like good enough reason to continue this ordeal.
The moment I turned my head to the left- there was this other class of people- bulging bellies, loose T-shirts (mostly the white and black ones donated at those office offsites) , dishelved hair and dusty shoes. Clearly, I felt so much better that even after hogging 2 cheese platters the last day I still manage to look okay. Then, I looked at my worn out pajamas (they were pajamas by all possible definitions) and T-shirt (which had sides and collars being loosened out after 100 washes- this was still the best) and felt nothing but the THIRD kind.
None the less, the class started and in first 3 mins- I was exhausted like a panting dog. Looking at the watch constantly even in a 10 second plank. And yet again, I was observing and commenting on people around (in my mind- mind you). Damn, this jazzy set was even putting this 100kg weight more on already so difficult to hold plank and every time they move that sound that they make- Fuck the moaning sounds that I was hearing (my mind was all pondering if I have ever heard such noises even in porn movies or if I could get an orgasm here only by hearing such intensity). Thinking more- even in 15 years of my marriage- I never have moaned this hard or heard (only if knew the weights were the trick). The right side- ha ha.. these ones were not even lasting 5 seconds in that 10 seconds act (yet again I felt proud that I gave up only on 7).
Few mins of survival- came the water break. I saw the right side drinking water from fancy water bottles (some even had wine bottles or at-least the look alike btw making me wonder if I could just have one sip right now). The left ones- some reused bottles of coke/soda/or the cheap Decatahlon black and red ones (remember). Sipping the helplessness I managed to cripple my way through whole class and then the instructor finally asked- All good? I could barely catch my breath and nod my head while this right side yelled– YES SIR (last I heard these words at such decibel levels was class 1 Maybe :p)
Feeling proud of myself that I have finally started on the journey of fitness and now soon enough I will also be able to flaunt my hot sexy body and make an Instagram video like Anshula kapoor- I came home only to find out everyone at home was craving to have aloo poori with achaar (how on earth can you not have this as your weekend breakfast in monsoons). Giving in to that fierce Punjabi in me- I convinced myself that I have burned 500 calories today and aloo poori in all its glory will only add to 600 (only a gain of 100 against 600 originally). And I sat down on the table with four pooris- fully determined in my mind to restart this mental and physical ordeal tomorrow morning at 6 again 😊
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