I was born skinny. In fact the most I have ever weighed is 60 kgs around the time I got married. For over 25 years my mom tried to fatten me up and failed. We’re married for almost 22 years and my wife has tried every trick in the cookbook to get me to bulk up but to no avail. Poor wife, everywhere we go together people would ask her, aren’t you giving him any food to eat? And she’s a damned good cook I tell ya. And I am an absolute glutton- I think the politically correct word used these days is foodie. I am a foodie. The stress of it all has made her put on all the kilos she tried to stick on me. When I climb on the weighing scale, it takes some time for the display to flash 57.6 kgs. I don’t know if it’s my imagination but the display sort of dims when showing my weight. Out of this, I am sure, 600 grams are purely due to the small beer belly I sport and I am very proud of. It that ensures my 30” jeans remain on my waist!
Speaking of jeans, for a long time, I never wore denim. The reason was they hung on me and my poor slim legs. All that changed when skinny fit was launched. Y’all wear the skinny fit to showcase your fine legs and posterior. I wear them because they’re as close as I can get to a comfort fit in jeans. Every cell in my body dislikes being skinny. I so abhor reedy bodies that I have passed on none of my famished look genes to my boys. Both of them are fine looking strong young men. Haters will say they have wifey’s genes!
Chicken legs were not the only problem I faced. I was stick-thin in all respects. I can never wear those big chunky watches because I have very thin hands and wrists. My wedding ring is made to order because bands for men are not available in my finger size! I wear it on my right hand. When people enquire about it, I say that it’s because I married the right girl. The real reason is, when I lost some weight after marriage, every time I soaped my hands, the ring was in danger of sliding off hence the exile to the right hand finger. I never go anywhere without my wedding ring because every gram of weight on me matters when I hit the bathroom scales.
My formal clothes are all tailored. I tell people it’s because I am really picky about the look and fit of my clothes. The truth is the best brands in the ready to wear apparel market don’t make clothes my size. And I am picky about the clothes I wear. I can’t afford to look skinnier than I already am!
We were at this party where there was a race with a twist for couples. The man had to carry his partner and race 10 meters to the finish line. The couple reaching there first were the winners. As we stood at the start line, I whispered to my wife, let’s win this, you carry me and run. She was not amused. I guess good things come only to those who weigh (more)!
Oh but there are instances where my being all slim and trim has had its advantages. At a Valentine’s do organized at our parish, one of the dares was for men to catwalk down the ramp wearing women’s shoes. I won this at a canter. My slim feet easily slipped into the ladies heels and I sashayed down the ramp swinging my dainty hips to many wolf whistles from the ladies. Most of the other guys were struggling to get their feet into the ladies’ shoes. I daresay some very expensive ladies shoes faced physical assault that night!
Another experience I had never fails to crack me up. After my lunch break in the office canteen I walked towards the lift and while I was still some distance away, I saw the elevator doors starting to close. There was still room inside the populated car so I gestured and a kind colleague held the lift open. As I hurried towards it another, er, rather large woman almost shoved me as she went in first. I didn’t complain and squeezed in after her. The overloaded sign flashed and the warning beeps started. The pushy lady glared at me as if to say hey man I got in before you so please get the fudge out. Now I am a married man and know better than to be in close proximity to an angry woman so I sheepishly stepped out of the lift. Much to her dismay and my well disguised glee, the warning sign continued to flash and the siren continued to beep. Now it was the turn of the rest of the lift occupants to glare at her. She had to get out of the lift. The elevator was ready to move up. Let it not be said that married men are not adventurous. Before the doors could slide shut I slipped in. My weight didn’t count for anything and the doors closed.There were loud guffaws and chuckles in the elevator. I endured a lot of banter and teasing about my weight (or lack of it!) till I got off at my floor. Someone called out that I had better watch out for the angry lady the next time!
Then Covid happened and no prizes for guessing where the damn virus hit me. Generally people would contract fever, sore throat, lung infections, dizziness, memory blackouts etc but me? Covid decided, hey this guy is way too heavy. Let’s get him in the gut! I lost more than 2 kgs. I was down to 55 kgs and I tell you I felt miserable. Then my son came up with this brilliant idea- join a gym dad you will feel better.
Now I have this love-hate relationship with gyms. I mean, imagine a scrawny looking fella like me going in and out of the gym? Wouldn’t it be bad publicity for the gym? While I didn’t mind working out among the beefy men there, I was afraid they would be offended by my single digit weight dumbbells sharing rack space with their 20 kg biggies! Nah I should not have to face this alone. Married men are resourceful. So I insisted that my good wife also take membership at the gym with me. She needed to get fit too. I wangled off a couple’s discount from the gym and thus started our tryst with the gym. Our son, all 90 kgs of pure muscle, is our trainer. I think we are quite the spectacle at the gym. There is no other family which works out together. The family that slays together stays together!
After almost a month, I have regained some of my lost weight and this is purely muscle. When the boys go shirtless at home comparing their biceps, triceps,abs, pecs, quads and whatchamacalit, I silently admire them. When no one is looking I do some flexing of my own to review my modest muscles and I must say I look good. I once mentioned it to the family and all of them smiled kind understanding smiles.
Lately the gym seems to be getting more crowded. I believe word has got around that there’s a whole family coming here to workout together. People love a good show, I guess. I would title it Everybody Loves Roshan with due apologies to Ray Romano!