The DEADLY Ex-Syndrome…

A splinter of a second after HE called I knew I had to do something drastic and quickly air brush myself into eye popping, jaw dropping gorgeousness.
It’s never good news when the ex comes knocking.
And now that SHE was……something had to be done.

A year since the man stepped into my premises no amount of coaxing, flattering, sweet-talking, back rubbing had smoothed him into talking about the mysterious ‘Former’. Sneakily I have often, I admit, searched through his wallet and papers in search of a stray love note or at least a toothy Polaroid which would give me a glimpse of what the lady looked like.

But all in vain.

Today a whole of 13 months, 2 weeks and 14 hours later however the curtain was finally to be raised. At last I was to rest my eyes on the Woman at dinner tonight. So effervescent was my excitement that I spent the entire afternoon speculating and getting drunk on an abandoned bottle of Vodka.

Speculation no.1
The woman was stunning.

She had to be.
Why else would he possibly keep me from the details?
Surely the guy was just being a sweetheart and saving me the heartburn.
Possibly because i knew her already.
Maybe she was a MODEL!
Maybe I had seen her already on a billboard or a magazine cover and salivated over her dress..or, worse, her perfect booty… in front of him!

He must have cracked into a nasty smug smirk at the very sight of my girlish envy!

God!

What would I do when she struts through that door looking like a groomed little peacock ready to perch on a catwalk?
I absolutely couldn’t be looking at her with puppy eyes between serving her appetizers and rummaging around the apartment for my autograph book!

That would leave him snugly satisfied with his prowess over women for the rest of the year!!!!!

Instead.
Instead I would turn the tables and make the gorgeous little thing go vra vra vroom at the very sight of me.

That’s what I would do, yes.

Tipsily I ran into the bath and turned on the shower.
With 2 hours in hand I still had enough time to transform myself into a strapping little Swan. I was a pro at conversions of the kind. Walk in the park. Piece a’cake.
One foot on the bathtub other on the shower floor I was squishily scraping away at my leg with a razor.

Quick.
Now the nail polish.
Toothbrush in mouth I tugged and pulled at my toe nails with clippers.

Maybe there was still time for a hurried visit to the beauty parlour for a nippy pedicure?
Maybe not.
Hurriedly, HURRIEDLY I jumped from one foot to the other trying to scrub my muggy looking feet into civility.
And that’s when it happened.

Well sometime around then anyway.

Speculation no.2

Daintily as i stepped out of the bath, carefully trying to get into character early and act as graceful as one can possibly look and feel in a hideous green bathrobe, I slipped on something….possibly some of the ultra luscious, super lubricating hair serum I accidentally dropped on the floor and landed, ungracefully, perhaps a tad pathetically, right on my head.

When I woke up I was in the hospital.

Looking concerned and with a buck-toothed, blinking girl, probably still in school, HE stood close by.
Through her mouthful of teeth the lady who had just cost me a twisted ankle, a couple of bruises, a nasty slash on my posterior and a visit to the hospital blinked and said

“I have heard so much about you.”

I grinned a toothy grin and wished I was in a state to bonk my head against the wall.

Disaster Date: A tackler’s hand-guide

It was a simple case of ‘fabulous’ gone ‘frumpy’. The customary Friday night dinner had followed a movie. We cabbed it to our recent favourite joint and sat snuggled under a circular overhead lamp in a cubby, which eerily resembled an interrogation room. Read more

The ‘Scent’ of a woman

Last week my grumpy old Landlady finally threw me out.
It was coming, I could tell, for some time now. She has had her scrawny eyes on me ever since I set the kitchen on fire.
When she ultimately gave me the kick, she chose to be nice and had the packers wait outside while she consoled me. It would be alright, she said, the University hostel (where I was destined to move in) didn’t have any kitchen and so I was completely safe, no chance of being thrown out ever again.

The transition from the 700 sq. ft. appartment to the 200 nothing sq. ft. hostel room has not been what one would call ‘rippleless’. For starters, there is the room mate.
To be fair, I have never been much of a team player. But even if I played football I wouldn’t be able to tackle the mini monstrosity I now sleep with.
She is a nice girl, of course, quick on a joke and all that. But what really defines her identity, what really sets her apart, marks her out in a crowd is her absolute, vehement, stubborn reluctance to take a bath.
That suits me fine.
I am all for individual choice and all that. And truly who am I to question her personal principles about hygiene. But if only she wouldn’t insist on sharing my clothes!!!!!!!
Every sleeve she slips her arms into, every scarf she winds around her unwashed neck becomes a blackhole of impenetrable odour.
I have tried to ‘introduce’ her to the idea of deodorants or anything else, which might, unassumingly obstruct her personal stamp of fragnance, but in vain.
Of late, when she is asleep and unaware I have (guiltily) sprayed around her and under her to help pierce through the halo of stench. But nothing has been of much help.

To add to my current misery the lady in question has recently acquired a man (!!!!). With this creature, who is either sensually challenged or has been rendered ‘breathless’ by love, she romps around rather noisily till the wee hours of the morning while I, loveless and deprived, study what Bordwell has to say about the debatable concept of Modernity(!!!)

HmmmPh.
Tough year ahead, I can tell.

Naomi Campbell Arrested Plus Peter and Katie back on TV!

We all know that Model Naomi Campbell has a bit of a temper on her, so it should come as no surprise to hear of her recent arrest after her luggage went missing at Heathrow. Apparently she came in on time with just 2 bags and got pretty out of control when one of them went missing. This resulted in her allegedly arguing and lashing out at police officers who eventually arrested her. Apparently there were plenty of other people whose luggage went missing and none of them decided to lose the plot and react in this way, I do often wonder if some models and celebrities live on a different planet to the rest of us! Read more

When in doubt get gorgeous 2: the diet plan

2 ‘o’ clock in the morning.
Stomach’s yearning.
Eyes sleepless yet longing for respite.
It’s been exactly 50 hours 20 minutes and a couple of seconds since I launched into my new diet.
Life since then has been about ducking desires and astute asceticism.
It’s not an easy deal.
Every fifteen seconds or so I remind myself of the exact stratagem to be adopted, ‘Brown before white, if you wanna eat right”……
It’s not an easy deal.
They are yet to cook up a whole wheat blackforest cake fit for human consumption.
So I grit my teeth and barricade the means of consumption.
2 ‘o’ clock is the moment of its reinforcement.
In my mind a half eaten slice of cheesecake, a recent inmate in my refrigerator, was beginning to grow.

The axe had to come down on the extra pounds sooner or later. The time had come, I’d decided a good time back. My new found interest in getting my life in order had reinforced the need for the hourglass with virgin intensity.
It had proved far harder than I had imagined it to be.
Incorporating the diet into my life had taken time.
For the first few days I had dilly-dallied a bit, I confess. But it was Easter and little could be done to keep a red blooded girl from food on festival days.
A week later when I still hadn’t managed to tackle it I told myself such transitions took time and planning.
Accordingly, I browsed the net and noted down important pointers to help me with my metamorphosis.
These took 4 whole days to sink in.
Once the message was assimilated, I took my time to enjoy the greatest joys of life, for the very last time.
It was a prolonged goodbye, sunk in crates of beer and peppered with the last traces of Cheetos.
When I recovered, I was a new girl.
Promptly I sauntered off to the green grocer’s and came back with veggies I had only seen in encyclopedias.
Morning began with stringy sprouts.
Tasteless and altogether unfit for ingestion.
As I chewed I had the image of a sweater strung in my head. Thousands of shreds of wool drawn out of them…..like hair off a blonde headed dolly……
No. Breakfast wouldn’t be sufficed by this alone I decided determinedly, spitting out the remnants of the fiber out into the sink.
So I sank back into routine and selected a big bowl of syrupy cereal instead.
Munching on the chocolate coated flakes I felt fulfilled.
Sighing with pleasure I decided the afternoon would be the starting point.

Afternoon came.
I skipped the meal, by then feeling guilty as hell over the cereal and convinced that it had added an extra inch to my waistline.
By evening I coul swallow a whole cow,horn and tail and everything in between.
Accordingly, I binged like a child, yet untouched by the grime of the calorie counter.

That was then. In the 36 hours that had followed I had struggled to stay afloat.
Bursting at the seams to keep myself from surrendering to the roadside muffin store.
Turning green under the pressure to resist the insurmountable temptation of fried chicken.

UGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

Resistance, I had taken, to a new gastronomical height.

Dancing On Ice Winner Your Thoughts Plus Kerry Katona’s Trip to Rehab

After Chris Fountain was the favourite to win Dancing on Ice for so long, I couldn’t help but be a little surprised when it was Suzanne Shaw who actually won on the night! There seems to be a lot of mixed opinions on the results of the show, with one group of people saying that Chris was robbed of his glory and others who think Suzanne well and truly chose the right time to pull her flawless performance out of the bag. What do Girlz Night mag readers think? After being the favourite for so long, were you disappointed not to see Chris win, or do you feel that Suzanne was the right person to win on the night?… Read more

Preg test? Follow me….

It was the 16th day of the month, a week and a half after the prescribed date….and yet…the blood had not come. Now, much as I’d like to believe otherwise such an anomaly tended to be caused by life situations I was not, by any standards, ready to handle. In other words, if I was pregnant and thus skipping out the old period routine I was in serious shit.

Till the 7th I was letting the ‘if’ factor provide some much required solace. There was absolutely no chance of it happening, I was repeating like a clockwork parrot. And the fact that I was sitting here, on my knees, unbleeding was just one of those unexplained things in nature…. somewhat like the Bermuda triangle, which would, no doubt, soon be rationalized in some long thesis paper by some old fellow sitting in a lab.

So I could sip my Bloody Mary with relaxed ease and throw caution to the wind. I told myself.

But the modern woman’s conviction tends to be shaken easily. Thus, the storm clouds of panic began settling in on the 10th. Something (I heard myself mumbling, reluctantly) was grievously wrong here. One could not blame me of having skipped any essential step. Every measure had been taken with algorithmic precision. Every advice followed with merciless exactitude. And yet……

Hamlet like I spent the whole morning expertly gnawing at my nails. ‘To do’ or ‘not to do’, that was the question, I had the preg test right in my hand. But I hadn’t the courage to carry out the judgment here in the apartment. If I fainted, or worse still burst a blood cell or had a heart attack I would probably stay stuck here till the neighbours dogs smelt me out.
Nothing doing, if I were to know I would know amongst other people, amidst the populace.
Swiftly I got my purse and hastened to the clinic.
No, I certainly couldn’t wait for an appointment till tomorrow I would sit here on one of these unwelcome looking chairs till eternity instead, I told the pink-clad nurse. She seemed amused (!!!!) and sent a creature of a clerk to note down my details.

“Praig-naint?” the creature asked joyously as if it were a source of personal triumph for him.
“No…” I said with a touch of vinegar.
“Then?”
“Just …checking”
“Oh!…………..” he burst into a flame of laughter. The man was certainly devoid of a trace of common politeness. “No father I am sure?” he added, once the cackle fizzled out.

Now, I did have a number of choice ideas which I would have easily suggested to the man as an answer to this inane question. If they didn’t suffice, I would have even willfully succumbed to my rather primitive instinct and stuffed his posterior with his punched in face. But I resisted the temptation and managed a hoarse “No” as an after thought.

“No matter” he said, still exuberant, “Lot of girls with babies and no father….all okay”.

After having enlightened me with that piece of precious information he went on to write down my name and address, occasionally interrupting his job to stroke my back, either to console me or to check whether I had a bra on under my shirt, neither idea would seem odd to him.

The results were to be picked up 4 hours later.
But I couldn’t wait.
I stayed put on the blue plastic chair watching bonny babies bobbing up and down at their mother’s bosom. The whole place was grotesquely covered with baby wallpapers. Babies in diapers, in nothing, on toy carts, with pouty mouths stared sachharinely out of glossy pics.
This was going to be one looooooooong wait.
Coffee and cigarettes flowed like a running nose.
A baby.
A baby?
A BABY ? *&^%$
My head was throbbing with the pounding of my heart.
Pacing around on the balcony I was trying to propose the idea of motherhood to myself as cozily as I could.
Motherhood = Pastel shades
I was mumbling like a clown.
Motherhood = empire line dresses
Motherhood = ice cream at 4 in the morning
Utter buffoonery!!

When the test results came I was busily telling myself that labor doesn’t hurt anymore, what with the water bath and all………..
The caffeine had made me so sick I could hardly read the results.
It was a negative.
With a sigh of relief strong enough to have shaken the Great Wall of China…. I stamped out of the dreary place.
Empty-bellied, I was a free woman again.
Sipping my customary glass of Bloody Mary at night, I went to sleep, a satisfied, unmothered, unbleeding girl.

Peace is often just a blood drop away.

The Break-up Economics: A Seasoned Practitioner’s advice

So, now that IT was officially over economic profits had to be made out of it, I decided.
All those dinner dates, ferry rides, long telephone calls and cigarettes I had been affectedly financing over the past few months finally needed to be replenished. It was a fair deal. The skull beneath the skin is always economic, and someone always has to pay.

Accordingly then I began on the plan the week after he made the announcement over the phone. It was essential that the possessions be distributed astutely. There were pertinent questions to be asked. Read more

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