For years I had always been the skinny guy, with sinewy arms and chicken legs, with every rib clearly visible and a butt, that one of my aunts had claimed loudly during a party, did not exist. But what I did have, was a washboard stomach, six pack and all. And then somewhere in my mid-forties a switch turned off and I seemed to put on weight just by looking at food. So imagine the existential nightmare I am facing at an All Inclusive resort in Cancun with food available all around at any time of the day or night: freshly prepared pasta, mascarpone cheese logs and octopus tostadas and chili shrimp and grilled lobsters and dark chocolate cake with a raspberry glaze and ice cream in every imaginable flavor, and pineapple and mango confits and nutty caramel entremets, delicacies that I cannot pronounce but sound and look so incredible. It is not just that I should be watching what I eat but also, and maybe more importantly, the need to ensure that I am getting every penny’s worth of this free food for which I have paid an extraordinary amount of money. Paisa vasool, as we’d say in Hindi. This is the same middle class mentality that compels me to finish the dosa and sambar that my privileged and wasteful daughter has left behind, or that makes me dive into an ice cold pool at a hotel even though I can barely swim, or why I continue to wear my underwear till I am not sure which hole I need to put my legs through. Talking about fitting into clothes, when I was in my twenties I had to punch extra holes in my belt and tighten it to ensure that my jeans didn’t fall off. Now, I invariably leave the top button off to make room for my protruding belly. This dheri also makes it necessary for Anjum to take two photos of me, one where I forget to suck my tummy in and one where I look like I am about to suffocate from holding my breath in for too long. Often Anjum will ask me why I don’t look like Robert Downy Jr. or Hugh Jackman or Sharrukh Khan. They are older than you, and look at them she says. Why can’t you be like them, she continues with an incredulity that defies logic. There are many responses to this question, none of which will have a favorable outcome for my physical well being, so I shrug my shoulders and promise her that things are about to change.
The damn New Year’s eve fireworks woke me up last night, so I am feeling a bit tired this morning. But more than tired I am feeling very, very hungry, and the resort has advertised a lavish breakfast buffet this morning to celebrate the beginning of 2024. So that Ironman and Wolverine body will have to be wait for one more day at least.
Bon Appetit my friends and a very Happy New Year to you and your family.