Size matters, darling
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Size matters, darling

Finding answers at the bottom of a tub of ice-cream.

india Updated: Apr 23, 2006 01:15 IST

Yesterday, I officially fell off the wagon. Okay, I have cheated on the diet once in a while (the pepperoni pizza with jalapeno pepper and red pepper toppings that comprised my comfort food two Wednesdays ago springs spectacularly to mind). But I have more or less been good and pure and eaten my two chappatis with some green, allegedly edible thing day after day, week after week, and not a lick of butter in sight.

But yesterday, pottering around Hill Road after an interview, I found myself – it’s amazing how my feet just lead me astray – first fighting for a place at the counter at Hearsch where I rediscovered the joy of meat, bread and condiments in the form of a burger, and next outside Natural’s ice cream parlour where I came to the conclusion that real happiness lies in a tub of fresh mango ice cream.

A large tub.

Oh all right, why go into denial, a very large tub.

And as I sat there licking my spoon and making appreciative noises that would have our esteemed deputy CM immediately plot a ban on ice cream on the grounds that it encourages immorality, I thought about my diet.

Actually, I use the word ‘thought’ somewhat grandiosely. My thought process, such as it was, was something on the lines of: “Mmm. Mmm. Mmmmm. Ohgawdohgawdohgawdohgawd. YesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesYES. %$%#@&% the diet, if happiness leads to hipponess, I shall just buy a ticket to Africa and spend the rest of my life in a mud bank.”

Oddly, there are some things I will miss about my diet. For instance, I will miss the space between my chin and neck that, if I actually do build a zhopadpatti outside Natural’s as I had decided last night (the lychee ice cream will be available from mid-May), will shortly be encroached upon by some too, too solid flesh. I will miss talking airily about “my nutritionist” as though I were a Lady Who Lunches. I will miss wearing that tiny top I bought (constructed, apparently, from half a ladies’ hanky) in anticipation of total thinness. But I don’t care. There are priorities in life and mine, at this moment, is ice cream.

And while I know I’m bound to get depressed at times as I grow larger and larger, I have, fortunately, some far more useful things to console myself with than that old platitude that women have to keep handing out to men – “Of course size doesn’t matter, darling.”

For instance, whenever I feel fat, I can log on to uk/beauty and have a virtual makeover – hair, makeup, the works. All I have to do is upload a photo of myself (preferably from 10 years ago) and then click and drag hairstyles and colours on to my mug. offers much the same service, though this is a paid site (a demo is all you get for free). And I rather like the instant makeover application at which offers to help you get that celebrity look and which, hallelujah, is wholly free.

And if these sites don’t cheer me up, I can always vent my angst on famous thin people by clicking on their faces and squishing them beyond recognition at revenge. Which, since I have just stuffed my face with batter-fried mussels, I am just about to do.

First Published: Apr 23, 2006 01:15 IST