MInd our business

A curious thing about us Indians – we are a curious lot. We make it our business to poke our nose in other people’s affairs. I have been pointedly asked some very perturbing questions right from my salary to my bust size. However, what really annoys me is when people take the unasked for onus on themselves to chastise an act that hardly affects them in any manner. And even more vexing, they will talk but wouldn't spare a drop of sweat to rectify it.

Case in point: My plumpness. I admit it, I am no size zero. I used to be a size 6 but that was a long long long time ago. Granted I could lose a few pounds, but a hectic lifestyle afford me with very little time to indulge in weight-loss activities (I would much rather use that time to nurse the bags under my eyes with therapeutic shut-eye). It also does not help my case, that India happens to nurture rather slender stalks as an excuse for women (Food crisis be damned! Has Bush seen the paltry amount these women eat in name of a dinner?).

Nevertheless, I am secure in myself and knee-deep in the conviction that my friends, family, would-be husband are in love with me for the person that resides within the physical shell.

My confidence must not be shining at its fullest these days. For Auntys have taken it upon themselves to tell me that I have put on weight since I last met them 2 years ago. Of course, their hips don’t lie but then again, they have been busy birthing children. I smile and nod, patting the tummy and promising them I will work on it. These days, the commetary has become so frequent that I am marking all the exit routes as soon as I enter the room. My situation is further aggravated their eternally slim daughters, who I secretly wish in moments of envy, are bulimic. I vented to a friend online who pointed out that in many cultures, such as India, saying that you look big is actually an indirect way of appreciating the good times that have fallen on you. Fair enough, but I ask, must you appreciate it every time I see you?

And, here is the clincher. A work colleague who thinks its his moral responsibility to point out every time I am inserting fare into my mouth and saying "How much you eat" for exacerbated effect. That is when I lost it. Auntys I have to bear, work colleagues who know less about me than they know about the Dalai Lama, are going to be whacked. And this one was. I told my colleague that my weight or lack thereof, was none of his business, in no less words. It’s not like I am eating his flesh or for that matter, embezzling money from him for my meals. My money, my body, my mouth, my food. Back off okay. Unless he is ready to foot every meal bill and pay for those weight-loss programs, maybe he can shut his hole and mind his own business. Not mine.