Am I a Baby Fan?

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I am not quite sure about the amount of hate I may generate with this post – but let me get it out anyway.

I am not a fan of babies. I have never been a baby person. I have never gone “Awww… So cute” when I saw a baby except a few that I really thought were cute (Those few I can count on the fingers of one hand and still have fingers to dip in the jar of Nutella to lick). I am that person who can simply ignore when a baby is being too cute and vying for attention.

I am also not mean or cruel or cold. It’s just that the attraction of a baby never reached me fully. I am more likely to be attracted by a GIF of a chocolate fondant cake than the hundred pictures of a baby. I am in that age-group where some people have started having babies or the baby-talk has entered their life. At this point, I am not sure what I can add to the talk. Neither do I know much about babies, or am interested in their activities or have any inclination to have one in the near future. (Near… Far… That will take another 10000 words to express)

My friend took it upon herself to melt my heart and bombarded me with the cutest baby photographs and GIFs. I admit, there were some really adorable ones that did squirm into the corner of my heart. But the one that caught my eye had a puppy in it and then I was lost. I spent the next one hour looking up videos of puppies playing with babies then progressed to puppies playing with other puppies and finally to puppies playing with kittens.

When I meet a baby, I cannot fawn over him or her! I just cannot. I will play (those feet are so cuddly!) and smile (those gurgling noises are cute!) and make faces (those laughs and shiny eyes!). But they don’t really become a part of my universe. It just does not happen.

I think it is fine. I know I make a cool aunt… the babies who became pre-schoolers and young adults will vouch for it. I have also been awarded the favourite aunt by three of them. Not too bad eh, for someone who is not a baby fan?

Written for Daily Post Prompt Baby

Not Detached – Jotting

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I am not expressive. That is not to say I don’t feel things – it is just that when I do, I am not exactly intense and emotional about it. Holds especially true for hospitals, clinics and general information when informed about how a person is sick or tragically passed away. I cannot work up appropriate responses and gestures! Don’t get me wrong – I do feel concerned and empathetic … But I just don’t fall into the depths of it?

The cold white tiles, the green robes, the pristine beds and the smell of disinfectants just do not register. The somber faces, the awkward slouch of a long wait and the muffled sobs fade into background noise.

I am not saying this correctly. Maybe what I want to say is… I isolate my heart from the whole scenario. I run from the emotion and stick to the situation, keeping my practical wits about me. I don’t get swayed with anxiety or trauma. And it is not a conscious decision drawn out of some childhood memory or incident. I just happen to be like this. For example, when my grandfather passed away – I was very much there. I was upset. For a few seconds, I was shocked and went into a corner so that I could just cry for a moment in peace. Once done, all that remained was looking after the family and friends gathered, making tea and taking care of grandma while the logistics were being handled.

But I can’t just explain this with being an introvert, can I?I know I am not disconnected. I know I feel things. I do get affected. I care…

I just don’t know if and how I should tell you about it.


Thank you Linda for getting me into the writing groove again….The Just Jot It January 13th prompt, brought to you by Charlene Bullard is: “Hospital.”

Beauty & The Beast

Optical Illusion or ...?
Optical Illusion or …?

I recently finished The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde and was so enraptured by it, that I also caught the movie starring Ben Barnes (Why was.HE cast??). I am still under the spell of the book – enchanted for life I think. For the uninitiated (and please change this status immediately!), the story deals with this young, beautiful man who wishes eternal youth while his magnificent painting (or rather, his soul) takes the brunt of time and age. The movie was a downer as it dealt more with the sexual debauchery that Gray descends into rather than the dwellings of mind that are so typical of Wilde.

Well… It raised a question. A very interesting question and I am hoping for varied answers.

How important is looking good and young to you personally? How much of your confidence or self-esteem is derived from your external attributes? I know, we wax poetic about our inner selves and what we feel, think and do blah blah is what counts. And I agree – in the end that is what deserves the spotlight. But isn’t there some tiny corner of our mind that really LIKES being beautiful and perfect on the outside? I know that corner very well!

I will be candid and say that I LIKE being relatively good-looking and feel lucky to have inherited the slim genes. All said and done, that bit of charm and flirting has really made life easy. Recent health issues played havoc with my face and I panicked! For the first time, I was self-conscious and lost my confidence, even though the world didn’t notice the imperfections. But I noticed! I saw every eruption and scar. And it disturbed me. Thankfully, I didn’t end up with a bunch of useless cosmetics (yay for common sense!) but I did start observing my face a lot closely and realized that this youth is temporary. Eventually, I may reach out for some magical youth serum and try to contain time. Maybe I won’t have the same paranoia about weight gain as fitness is what matters to me – diet and exercise. Again, maybe! I don’t know for sure.

Some of you may think of “how shallow!” Even I cursed myself for being affected by something external and so temporary. But it made a dent on me. I admit it. Hey! Even Beauty fell for the Prince – she was just friendly with the Beast he used to be. And then, I look around and I see inspiration. People who haven’t let their weight, their face or their bodies affect them! But I also understood that they had their moments of doubts and it was a long fight to accept themselves. Maybe one day I too will shake this self-doubt off successfully. But again, I don’t see anything WRONG in taking care of myself!

Although, I definitely won’t present my soul on the devil’s altar in exchange for eternal youth. 


So tell me, world. How important is/was your youthful perfection to you? Given a choice, would you – like Dorian – opt for eternal youth and beauty? Turn back the time for every wrinkle without affecting your experiences or is that wrinkle a souvenir of a life well lived?

My fastest ever post (eight minutes) was brought to you by Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday where the prompt is very/vary.

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Confessions of a Model

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Visit me sometime, said the dessert plate.

One more slice will not hurt.

No one would know.

 

There’s always room for one more.

One more piece of chocolate.

One more slice of pizza.

One more stick of butter.

 

The mirror became the enemy.

Shrieked at the jiggling flab.

Mocked at the increasing weight.

Fumed at the new plus sizes.

 

The toilet bowl understood though.

Gave the nerve to ram my fingers.

Helped in ignoring the vile taste.

Cheered by showing the flat tummy.

 

My head strayed on its way back home.

Cigarettes were the slimming pills.

Alcohol roped in mock-happiness.

Drugs erased traces of grim reality.

 

My body started giving up on me.

Only dismal escapades in bed.

Blackouts a steady companion.

Painful withdrawal while resisting.

 

Visit me sometime said the toilet bowl.

One more puke will not hurt.

No one would know.

 

But… I would know.


Inspired by some dark conversations and confessions shared with an aspiring model. Anthony at dVerse has us spilling our beans tonight at the pub. Join in and share yours…

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