Resuming the battle

I’ve been at it for the as long as I can remember. Whenever I got back from one of those exasperating shopping trips to Karol Bagh, having faced the ruthless sun and the sunless, oily smiles of the umpteen dilli shopkeepers telling me I’m too ‘healthy’ to be shopping at the kid’s section. Mom made things easier for the sensitive me, never cutting back on the sugar coated goodies she brought home regularly. Dad, on the other hand, tried time and again to tempt me with promises of a Sridevi-like flat abdomen and a better wardrobe, if only I’d go for that (too early in the) morning walk with him.

Well, battle it was; between mom and dad, between the chocolate shake and the salad, between me and my bulge. It never really reached the crescendos of an all-stakes war though. I’d try at times. The usual-cut back on sweets/fried things-morning walks-multiple mini meals. I also had a rather predictable relapse every single time.

Well, I’m hoping things would be different now. I enrolled at the gym last month and have been more regular than I’ve ever been (the usual tally is five days in a month). The mirror doesn’t lie; neither does it make any attempts at camouflaging the rolls and the breathlessness that takes over after ten minutes on the treadmill. What it does best is inspire, as we resume the long drawn battle against the image of what we don’t want to be. Maybe this time I’ll win. What do you think?