Figuratively Speaking...

Slim is in? Hmmm…. Am not too sure about that. On second thoughts, slim maybe in, but underweight is definitely not. Ask me. I know.

Pretty rotund as a kid, I grew up. And I shrank. Now don’t ask me where the flab went. I am as clueless as my parents were.

Age 16, and relatives were shaking their heads at this gaunt teenager who looked like she had just escaped from Somalia. By eighteen, I was the butt of every conceivable joke from ‘broomstick’ to ‘drumstick’ to ‘skeletal remains’. Sport that I am, I took it all in my stride albeit a bit fuddled about the extreme physiological change.

Suspecting that a flab-threatening sickness was ravaging my body, I was subjected to an intense examination by a plump doctor (Emphasis mine!).

‘Do you have any problem swallowing?’
‘Uh? No, doc. No problem’ (Except when it comes to swallowing my pride!)
‘Do you feel nauseous at the sight of food?’
My friends snicker, ‘No way, doc. Heck, she loves food.’ I jab them in the ribs with my bony elbow.
‘Ok, stick your tongue out.’
‘But doc, what does my tongue have to do with my weight (or the lack of it)?’
Apparently a lot, I guess. The verdict came right after I’d stuck my tongue out for nearly a mile. ‘High Metabolic Rate,’ he declared.
The way he shook his head, I was sure it was fatal.
‘Uh?’ was all I could manage.
‘Oh, it’s not life-threatening. It’s just that your energy level’s too high. Whatever you eat just gets used up too fast. You just need to slow down a bit and you’ll put on some kilos soon.’

That was at age 19. At 20, I was surrounded by friends who’d exercise their lungs enough to let out a mighty scream if the scales showed even a trivial increase. I’d watch them struggling to fit into undersized clothes. I, however, had no problem. I could very well fit in baby clothes if I tried. So while friends and family hesitated in front of a lavish spread, I dug in and devoured every morsel. A car full of people, bursting at the sides, but Sneha has always fit in.

Age 29 and 5 ft. 6 inches, I am still hovering over a shockingly underweight figure of 48. The cries of protest grow louder, ‘Gosh, it could affect you later on, you know.’ I, however, am still on a roll. Skinny but healthy Sneha, unperturbed by all the fuss to ‘put on some meat on your bones, dear’, is privy to one little secret. In the face of all the pressures and the demands, she mulls over it. She works on it. It’s the same little secret that takes her through all the facets of life. Contentment.

Beauty in Layers!

Just the other day, I found myself standing in front of the mirror with a sizable amount of moisturizer in one hand and fairness cream in the other. Now, now! Don’t you dare attribute any philosophical aura to this dilemma I face everyday! The dilemma itself is simple. The solution however seems quite intricate. At least to me, it is.

While beauty basics seem to be on everyone’s fingertips, it somehow eludes me! Take for instance, the scenario I described at the beginning. Must I daub the moisturizer on first or should I pat it on after a generous spread of the fairness cream? At night, it’s even worse. My under-eye night cream and replenishing night cream leave me bewildered. Now if I do rub in the under-eye cream and then apply the replenishing night cream, will it wipe away all traces of the under-eye cream leaving my dark circles properly replenished? Sigh!

The impasse went to absurd lengths on a day out with Robert, when I froze as he suddenly embarked on a close scrutiny of my face, and said, ‘Uh… Sneha, I think the goo in your nose is showing’… Horrified, I looked into the nearest mirror only to discover that the skin near my nostrils was peeling off. I told Robert and he gave me his good-natured ‘I understand’ smile. I silently wondered if the array of beauty gears was doing me more harm than good.

I’ve always been unperturbed by the pressure to conform to beauty standards. I am, however, quite adventurous. Totally mystified by all the rush to be ‘fair and lovely’, I ventured into the terrain quite late only to find out that beauty comes in layers – layers and layers of creams, lotions, potions, concoctions, make-up and gloss. Layer after layer until it hits the surface and then there’s nothing beneath it.

Just yesterday, I was watching my mom. Her long, graying hair untouched by dye or hair color, her naturally glowing, healthy skin (she attributes it to a generous application of good ol’ coconut oil before bath!!), her soft eyes, her strong hands, her smiling lips – simple, alluring, beautiful. Baffled, I asked her how she managed to look so beautiful without the trappings of all the beauty accessories I recently acquired. Her answer is quite simple - years of ‘pouring her heart and love’ into everything she’s ever done, be it serving her family, friends or feeding the poor.

Don’t take me wrong! I am an ardent admirer of beauty in every thing. All I am saying is this – beauty in layers and layers above the skin may bring on a crown in a beauty pageant, but beauty that stops with the skin is hollow, empty and fleeting. True beauty goes deeper beneath the layers and underneath the epidermis, into the heart and soul.
I’ve decided to settle in for the ‘less is more’ principle. Nowadays, my beauty kit contains just cream, lip gloss, eyeliner… and a liberal coat and second coats of love, compassion and generosity, layers and layers of it.