O is for Obituary

Mood: Calm – for now

Listening to:  Completely ineffective ceiling fans – it’s hot!

Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to mourn the loss of my desire to wear jeans. As I previously mentioned, India is hot. I live in Bangalore, which in comparison to the rest of India is downright moderate, but it is still bloody hot outside. Shorts are not an acceptable sartorial choice for ladies, so I was really trying to stick with my jeans. I have been a jeans groupie for the past 20 years. I love love love me some jeans. Since I lost weight, I have been loving them even more because I don’t have to fight to get them on and then suffocate.

Then came April in Bangalore. I just can’t take it anymore. My legs are dying of suffocation and heat stroke every day. In the name of comfort, I have had to put my jeans down for a while. I still stare longingly at them when I open my closet in the morning, but my hand always reaches for a light skirt instead.  I have never worn so many skirts in my life. I’m just not a skirt kind of girl. Unless its ungodly hot outside.

So goodbye for now sweet Levi’s, Gloria Vanderbelt, and Lee’s. (Shut up, I am not dropping major amounts of cash on jeans!) I will miss you and look forward to the days when we can once again be together.

Becky

From the Archives: Playboy Athletic Wear on Fat Chicks

Mood: Discouraged, but calm

Listening to: My own typing

So I’m just passing some time. A little bummed out that my daughter has not decided that I can be relieved of this awfully uncomfortable state of late pregnancy, but generally content.  I just had to blog about this because it represented to me one of those perfectly ironic moments in life where you just sit back and say to yourself, “You have to be kidding me.” Now I don’t want any hate mail. I know it’s not PC to call anyone fat. Well, tough. My blog, my wording. And I calls them how I sees them.  Anyhow, since I so resemble a laughing Buddha right now, I reserve the right to laugh. I’m a fat chick too. All right, it’s pregnant fat, but still fat.

 So I was out recently in a bout of warmer weather and I noticed an overweight chick wearing a playboy bunny on her shirt. Now I’m not talking a healthy, curvy chick with a few extra pounds, I’m talking a chick who had some serious rolls hanging out of this outfit. Which happened to be WAY too tight, but come one, it was a playboy wear.  We were out on the street, so it’s not like we were in a gym or anything. So I’m okay with that. Hell, I love the playboy bunny myself. I happened to turn around after she passed me and noticed that she had “Playboy Athletic Wear” plastered on her oversized behind. (one of which I also possess, but anyhow…) I seriously thought was going to roll down the street laughing. Having the playboy bunny on your shirt is one thing. It’s gutsy, and it doesn’t matter much who you are. Having their athletic wear on your biker shorts that are a few sizes too small for your overweight frame is quite another.  Let’s dig in, shall we? Since when does playboy make athletic wear – or any wear for that matter – that heavier people can fit into? I never could fit into anything of theirs, and I was a curvy chick before getting knocked up for the second time. Second of all, does she not realize the almost unholy irony in wearing that? Playboy idolizes (and yes, trivializes) women in general by turning them all into plastic, blond, size 0, shaved, bimbos that are glorified sex toys. You. Do. Not. Fit. The. Description.!   Not many people look good in spandex. Pulling it off is one of those things that only uber skinny women can do. Kind of like wearing skinny jeans and looking good in them. Why would you draw attention to your ass by advertising playboy athletic wear?  I mentioned this in another blog. Everyone has a mirror. Please to look in it before stepping out of the house. If you are not sure, enlist an honest friend. One who doesn’t want you to go out of the house looking like a supreme idiot. We all have at least one friend like that.

Hope everyone is having a good week. Hopefully next time I blog I can spread some good news about having a baby. I’ll warn you first so you don’t have to sit through a mom blog if you don’t want to. 

Arrivederci.

Becky

Projecting Bad-assery or Managing Your Dressing Habits

Listening to: At Last: Can’t Touch This – MC Hammer (heck yeah…)

Mood: Irritated with Dude on the other end of my ball and chain

Anyone who knows anything about me knows that I don’t talk all that much. No seriously.  I’m the quiet one taking it all in and…scheming. I’m perfectly happy like that. Unless I’ve been drinking, then all bets are off and I am tons of fun. I have times when I just have nothing to blog about, and then I have times when it seems like stuff just pours out of my mind via my fingers on a constant basis.  Everything is funny, and everything needs to be expressed.  I’m in one of those times right now, so you might as well enjoy it – I will lapse into radio silence sooner or later.

So the husband and I have been having negotiations as of late as to what is kosher for me to be wearing. For some reason, this is extraordinarily important to him. Before we left the states, anything and everything that could remotely be construed as sexy was either given away or summarily put in storage at my mom’s house. Saris and salwars have been embargoed except for special party situations, which we will not find ourselves in until we make some friends.  I have also been banned from walking around looking like a boy. Whatever. Look baby, I don’t care how many times the 80’s call and request their tee shirts back. They can pry them out of my cold dead fingers in 80 years or so. We’ve uneasily settled on Indian tops and non-tight jeans which is a good thing for me. Since I’ve lost weight, I can’t seem to find any tight jeans in my closet anyhow. This is indeed something amazing for me.

There are times when I put down my foot and wear what I think it appropriate for the situation I find myself it. Let me explain. I am a Guns and Roses Freak. I love the music, the attitude, and my black Appetite for Destruction teeshirts. Certain activities here elicit a need to project an image that I am best left alone and not messed with. Wearing a black teeshirt with smoking skulls certainly fits the bill here. Taxis are a good example, walking next to construction guys another. I’ve found that when I dress a certain way, people just leave me alone because who really wants to mess with the crazy firangi (foreign) girl wearing a scary teeshirt. Wearing local clothes just invites too much innocent curiosity which at times has turned into cat calling and interest I just don’t want. So yes. The teeshirts stay.

I think it’s important for a woman who is functioning on her own to be aware of how she dresses. I’m in no way saying that how a woman dresses excuses the way a man behaves – that’ s just bull shit. What I’m saying is that if you don’t want to be messed with, a slightly more edgy look is better than a helpless feminine one.  I don’t know if I would ever walk down the street in a sari into the village next door to us, even with my husband right next to me. It just seems to be borrowing trouble. I don’t need the cab/auto drivers to look at me like a woman. I need them to leave me the hell alone and get me where I want to go. I can understand that my husband wants to see me as a girl and it will be important if we are hanging around with people he deems important to look a certain way. Even though every cell in my body rebels against doing something because society expects it, I am also a realist in that you have to take your spouse’s wants and needs into account too. I’ve decided that the tee shirts stay, because they definitely have a function too.

Becky