Monday Morning
Dinner Today:
It's going to be sauce bolognaise... I'm still on the detox thing that we invented ourselves... So no pasta for me. I have 5 kilos to go before I'm the supahstylee mama. So this blog can be a diary of what I'm going to do with my big bum once it gets smaller.
Weather:
Winter in Bombay. HAhahahahhaaaa... It's really not that cold. And now when nosey mummies (do I have a look on my face that says 'weirdo mum does not know what she is doing!'?) come up and ask me why the 8 month old has no fleece jacket and hood in 25 degree weather, I look them in the eye (and what big eyes I have granma) and say, 'But it's NOT cold.' Cos, its not!
What's weird is how my feet get all chapped and peasant like. Still, I could have been a hairy ex-rocker in New York like our friend Uday who once, in excruciating detail explained how absolutely creepy it was to put moisturiser on a pair of men's legs (his own). I laughed. But actually, stretchy-inners-to-let-babies-out aside, it sure made me glad to not be a man.
The help:
I know, I sound like a real lady of leisure with my cook and lady who cleans the house. Which is fine, I will not justify it. But does everyone else have employees who constantly need validation? There is really something about my face. The cook comes and asks the most inane questions and has the disconcerting habit of opening the door of the bedroom even when I'm inside, putting the baby to sleep or worse, stuffing nursing pads into my bra. I don't have the language or I would be sarcastic to her in Hindi. This not being fluent in the lingua local is like having one less limb. The one attached to fingers you can flip, verbally. (here she is again! man... she asked if she should put celery in the bolognaise after I took it out of the fridge, laid it out on the chopping board and said, put celery in it. She wants me...)
Work in progress:
I think people who describe their lives as 'work in progress' should be spanked on the soles for being a) inane, b) self-indulgent, c)cliche users. Also women who refer to themselves as hot, game show contestants who refer to themselves as 'mad' (what does that mean? you are willingly making a fool of yourself on national television. is it not obvious that you are stark raving...?)
Crows:
My mum says that I should stop entertaining the crows because they may have bird flu. There is also the theory that us people who live in this disgusting primordial pool of germs called Bombay are probably immune to bird flu. Hope this is true because the crows really entertain the baby and one of her first words was 'ka!'.
It's going to be sauce bolognaise... I'm still on the detox thing that we invented ourselves... So no pasta for me. I have 5 kilos to go before I'm the supahstylee mama. So this blog can be a diary of what I'm going to do with my big bum once it gets smaller.
Weather:
Winter in Bombay. HAhahahahhaaaa... It's really not that cold. And now when nosey mummies (do I have a look on my face that says 'weirdo mum does not know what she is doing!'?) come up and ask me why the 8 month old has no fleece jacket and hood in 25 degree weather, I look them in the eye (and what big eyes I have granma) and say, 'But it's NOT cold.' Cos, its not!
What's weird is how my feet get all chapped and peasant like. Still, I could have been a hairy ex-rocker in New York like our friend Uday who once, in excruciating detail explained how absolutely creepy it was to put moisturiser on a pair of men's legs (his own). I laughed. But actually, stretchy-inners-to-let-babies-out aside, it sure made me glad to not be a man.
The help:
I know, I sound like a real lady of leisure with my cook and lady who cleans the house. Which is fine, I will not justify it. But does everyone else have employees who constantly need validation? There is really something about my face. The cook comes and asks the most inane questions and has the disconcerting habit of opening the door of the bedroom even when I'm inside, putting the baby to sleep or worse, stuffing nursing pads into my bra. I don't have the language or I would be sarcastic to her in Hindi. This not being fluent in the lingua local is like having one less limb. The one attached to fingers you can flip, verbally. (here she is again! man... she asked if she should put celery in the bolognaise after I took it out of the fridge, laid it out on the chopping board and said, put celery in it. She wants me...)
Work in progress:
I think people who describe their lives as 'work in progress' should be spanked on the soles for being a) inane, b) self-indulgent, c)cliche users. Also women who refer to themselves as hot, game show contestants who refer to themselves as 'mad' (what does that mean? you are willingly making a fool of yourself on national television. is it not obvious that you are stark raving...?)
Crows:
My mum says that I should stop entertaining the crows because they may have bird flu. There is also the theory that us people who live in this disgusting primordial pool of germs called Bombay are probably immune to bird flu. Hope this is true because the crows really entertain the baby and one of her first words was 'ka!'.
posted by genesia at
8:33 PM
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