The unbearable lightness of being

At the risk of repeating myself, I have lost a tonne of weight. As is normal, running around in India and falling sick started it, then I capitalised on the loss of appetite to starve myself eat less and voila – EIGHT kilos. Whenever I meet former colleagues, they gape. A friend asked me if I’m thinner now than before I was pregnant with Benji.

You’d think I’d be super happy (hint: I am … mostly) but this being me there is no silver lining without a dark cloud. SO:

Things I like about weighing less:

1. The angles of my face. I used to hate how angular my face was, but nothing like a double chin for a few years to make you long for that triangular jawline.

2. My trousers zipping up without a struggle. My wallet was struggling to keep up with my burgeoning hips, as it costs money to keep going up a size unfortunately. See, practical, not just aesthetic reasons. Though also, when you sit down in slightly tight trousers, and you tummy hangs over it, HATE THAT FEELING. Again, people can’t see that because I’m very good at choosing camouflagy clothes but I personally found it uncomfortable.

3. Being able to lie on my side without my hip hurting. This is a thing, yo. When you put on weight, after a point, your hip on the side you’re lying on begins to protest. Weird.

4. Fitting into the MTR seats with space leftover. Honestly, the seats are too small though.

5. The compliments.

Things I don’t like about weighing less (yes, this is a thing)

1. Hunger. So I thought that the logic of portion control is that you eat less, and then your appetite shrinks. And yeah, this happens. Though I think not enough to stop one feeling hungry. So while the hunger is not unbearable, it is there.

2. As a result, I’m more snappish/quick to run out of patience. I was never a font of patience to begin with, and now that my tummy is rumbling … This is probably why Hong Kong women (who are thin as rails) look so grumpy all the time, they’re probably starving.

3. Related to No. 2 in the ‘Things I like’ section, on the one hand, nice not to have to go up a size, but … now a lot of the new clothes I bought having given up hope, hang on me. For example, my jeans because they are loose make me look like I have no ass because my ass is now not Beyonce sized. There’s no winning is there? A friend sagely advised me to “keep the jeans” becuase you never know, though obviously while I know I am not going to maintain this weight, I don’t want to think I’m going to rise to my former heights, depths  girth.

Ironic fact about being arguably thin

You know how people go on about how fat people are unhealthy blah blah. Well, I got this thin because I was unhealthy. So yeah, I’m exercising and eating less and snacking on an apple etc, and maybe I’m healthier than before, but I don’t think so. I still have a lingering cough that made me suspect TB (and part of me doesn’t want to know if it is or isn’t though the doc just gave me more antibiotics which I haven’t taken).

Frankly, the most effective weight loss technique for me is falling sick, and that kind of flies in the face of the gyan no?

Surprising fact about current food regime

Don’t miss chocolate. I’m keeping off dessert and so far when I’ve had it, I’m not wowed, which is a new first for me. Not to be even tempted. Cannot imagine it will last though.

Miss milk in my tea, which I am inexplicably avoiding. It’s helped my tummy issues, but not completely. Heh.

Craving chips. Come my period, I’m going to indulge.

Transitions

Since we got back from India, Mimi has had a lot to deal with.

When she returned from India, she transitioned (with aplomb) from me to our helper J.The next order of business was to get her off the bottle. Yes, my three-year-old was still drinking milk out of a bottle, only before bed. It helped her sleep easily, and we were too lazy to stop it. Also the usual reasons one shouldn’t didn’t apply – she was only using it for like 10 minutes of sucking before bed, and she would drink water after that, so it’s not like her teeth were going to decay.

But yeah, we figured we’d better bite the bullet and stop it. Ironically, we did it when Mimi fell sick with a tummy upset. I didn’t want to give her milk with a bad tummy, and anyway she was kind of zoned out and tired the first day. The next couple of days she cried and screamed. We just kept telling her the doctor said no – the doctor is the new bogeyman – and that she would get sick. We had to rock her to sleep instead, exchanging one undesirable habit for another, and still do, but just for a minute or so.

She had recovered from the tummy bug, when she got the flu. All of us did, but Mmi had it bad. And she clung to me. It was confusing and tiring, physically and mentally, because I was sick myself.

Mimi had just recovered from the flu, which was a scary bout, when she had to start school. She had been wanting to go to school for a while, having really enjoyed the playgroup she attended twice a week (before it shut down due to high rents boo!). And she hated that Benji had somewhere to go in the mornings and she didn’t.

But I knew that Mimi’s transition to school would not be seamless. She’s a fiesty kid, but she doesn’t like being in new situations without a known and trusted companion, preferably an adult. I had to find playgroups that would let someone accompany her till she was comfortable, and she took a few sessions to reach the stage at which she would let my helper or me go. To me, this seems perfectly logical. Why we expect three year olds to walk into a room full of strangers unfazed is a mystery.

So yeah, on her first day, Mimi got fitted up in her uniform and was all excited, until we had to go into the class. The teacher let me go in for the first bit, so Mimi was okay. Then, unfortunately, they had assembly. I didn’t know I could go in, so I tried dropping her in but she started crying. There was a tragic moment when she came out and told me: “But I can’t.” I then tried having her sit with Benji, who was mouthing ‘no no no’ to me because he didn’t want his bawling baby sister cramping his style. In the end, they asked me to sit in with her, which I wish they had done in the first place because it would have spared Mimi some trauma. Apparently, I was allowed to stay with her the entire first day, which I didn’t realise, and that day unfortunately, I had to go to work and teach a class. I had to have my helper come replace me haflway through which did not go down well with Mimi. The only saving grace was that when I told her that if she didn’t stay with J, she’d have to go home because I really couldn’t stay and she said: “But I want to stay!” So clearly, she wanted to be in school, just not alone.

From day 2, we couldn’t go with her. It was decided that my helper J would do the honours because it seemed like Mimi would do more drama if she had to separate from me, and honestly, I’m a big softie and would probably just bring her home. This proved to be a good decision, because last week, I decided to go in and drop them, and Mimi did a lot of drama.

However, after two days, she was pretty much fine. The first couple of days she cried 10 minutes and then would only ask to go home during class changes, which is understandably disorienting. Within the week, she was fine in school, though she seems to have mixed feelings about going, and is restless when sleeping. When we ask her if she likes it, she says she does.

Right now, Mimi is doing well at school, healthwise is ok and her bottle is a distant memory. But she is clinging to me. And I’m not dealing with that so well.

It’s ironic because a month ago, I was smarting from her rejecting me. Now the opposite is happening and I’m struggling with that. My problem is that I’m not used to a person being around me all the time. Growing up, I shied away from having a best friend for that reason. The only people I accepted being really clingy were boyfriends, and maybe that worked because we really couldn’t physically spend that much time together. Having someone not let you out of their sight, even to go to the bathroom, can be very trying.

I know – and hope – this a phase. Mimi is slowly getting better, at least she will sometimes do something with other people when I’m around. And who knows, when she detaches, I might miss it.

Saas Bahu stuff

I discovered Madh Mama’s blog and have been gorging on her posts. It’s beautiful blog about being in a cross-cultural marriage. Her post on how to survive a visit from your Indian in-laws struck a chord with me. Spoiler alert: It is not an Indian in-law bashing post. Rather, Madh Mama’s empathy, ability to forgive and thoughtfulness really touched a chord in my cynical and jaded heart.

Did it make me think I could do the same? Unfortunately not. I’m just not that nice. And my early attempts to pretend to be that nice person resulted in me becoming even more resentful and sulky. Which is when I decided to resort to who I am which is someone who is standoffish with people who are mean to me.

My mother-in-law is not as horrible as some of her Indian counterparts. I understand now that when she is insecure, she starts talking Malayalam and gets bitchy. It’s easier if she’s being bitchy about me in Malayalam which I do not understand, though I can sense when a person is being snarky about me even in languages I don’t understand. My mother in law was sometimes kind enough to translate her bitchiness into English for my benefit.

Knowing the possible reasons for her bitchiness did not take the edge of it for me, because hello I was insecure too. I was acutely aware of my shortcomings as an Indian woman who was incompetent around the house, particularly the kitchen.

I went through a brief phase of being overly nice to my mother-in-law, and found that she then upped her expectations of me. The whole thing became really difficult to sustain. My mother-in-law and I have little in common, and even less when one person tries to take the opposite stance just to be bitchy, so forcing a friendship was not going to happen because I am bad at forced friendships with people my own age and who I have much more in common with.

Things got easier with time, and thankfully we had the benefit of distance. My sister-in-law is of the opinion that it’s better to have more interactions because then you are just forced to find some common ground but I think this works only for certain kinds of people – social and outgoing people and those who value pleasing others, possibly both. People like me might just get rubbed the wrong way too many times and then cut off all ties.

My problem was that I had a hard time articulating even to myself what the problem was. I didn’t really speak to V about it because chronicling the numerous jibes felt petty, and I was still smarting from the one or two times he didn’t stand up for me (though he has one other occasions). Also, because other people have worse stories, I felt mine did not justify my attitude.

Then one day I realised it’s enough. I don’t have to excuse someone being bitchy to me just because other people have it worse. In fact, I do excuse it to some extent. Because they are my husband’s parents I continue to meet and be cordial with them. But I didn’t have it in me to do more than that.

And it wasn’t like the husband was bending over backward for my parents. He does the minimum pleasantry stuff and everyone think he’s wonderful.

I definitely think that when I had children – not to mentioned the prized boy child – my in laws reactions to me changed. Finally, I proved my worth. And tangibly, when I visited them with their kids, I was suitably busy looking after the kids. This approval made me feel comfortable enough to actually volunteer to do some work in their house. Of course, then there is the typical expectations being raised, so I have to handle this carefully.

If I’ve given you the impression that it’s all acrimonious between my mother-in-law and me, it’s not. She doesn’t really snark at me much and I don’t bristle around her much. Taking a step back actually helped me navigate the relationship more than taking a step forward. There are times when I will go the extra few inches (if not miles) for my MIL because I’m not a horrible person, but mostly, I play the backstage role and tend to urge the husband to do something special for his parents. He tells me I should do it myself, but hey, he’s their son.

One thing I realised when reading Madh Mama’s post is that it’s easier to articulate one’s experience of one’s in-laws visiting as a cross-cultural encounter when the marriage is between and Indian and a non-Indian. But the fact is that within India there are cross-cultural marriages, like mine, too. I had been warned that my in-laws were going to be much more conservative than I was used to and I didn’t quite believe it because my husband and his sisters are so liberal, but it turned out that while my parents-in-law are less conservative than their peers in Kerala they are way more traditional than anything I was used to.

However, because we are both Indian and Christian, I could not articulate it to myself as a cross-cultural problem, apart from a straight-up patriarchal one, which it was.

On the other hand, I think being in a cross-cultural marriage has some advantages for a daughter-in-law, if you have a supportive husband and don’t depend on your in-laws materially. In-laws would love to ‘convert’ you to their culture so they can look good to their friend’s circle that was giving them grief over the fact that their child married outside the community. My observation, though, is once they get over the disappointment that you are not going to be that malleable, if you’re up to the mark they can excuse your poor performance as a DIL to themselves and their friend’s circle on the grounds that you don’t know any better because you’re not from the culture. I’m happy to be seen as the incompetent one, as long as noone hassles me about it. Being a top-class Malayalee DIL was never on my agenda anyway.