#if you see me drawing law for the next 10 years just smile awkwardly as if watching the village crazy old man and keep scrolling

[zhi-liet]

emotional support strawhat

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 11

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter:  Chapter 11

Chapter Summary:  I’ll be sure to mark this date down.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Who would have guessed, I wrote another porn. So that, and tooth rotting fluff because I’m a soft slut.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8} {Chapter 9} {Chapter 10}

Henry really had thought of everything when he decided to 'redecorate' his home. Briar was in love with her Paw Patrol bedding and wasted no time in naming all the stuffed animals that now lined the shelf. She fawned over all of the new bedtime story books he had bought and stored in the night stand, quickly picking out her favorites, despite never having been read most of them. She squealed in delight when he turned on the fancy nightlight that projected different images onto the ceiling. He even got a couple spare changes of clothes for the girl.

While Faye loved the idea of him fumbling through the baby girl section, trying to figure out what size Briar wore, Henry confessed to ordering most everything online. He cited COVID as his reason for not going in person, but Faye had a feeling it was because he had no idea what he was doing in the girl's section. He only had two nieces, after all. He was just used to buying for boys instead. His nieces tended to have very specific wants. His brothers or his sisters-in-law told him what they wanted, and he supplied it.

That being said, he did a very good job preparing for a little girl. Faye found herself spending most of her time at his house after the first week. Henry only had a bag of dog food, a couple bowls for Kal and a dog bed at her house. He claimed it was all he needed to be comfortable, but Faye knew otherwise.

On the days they had stayed at his house, Briar almost never let him out of her sight. She loomed across the kitchen when he would try to cook. She stared at him while he read. She lurked while he played video games. Finally Henry invited her to watch him, the little girl all too happy to perch herself on his knee, happily cheering him on despite not knowing what was going on in the game. The few nights they spent back at their own home, Briar demanded to call Henry every night so he knew she was behaving for Mommy.

Henry was even thoughtful enough to clear out a drawer in his bathroom for Faye. She'd lived with a man before, and she always had to fight for her own drawer in the bathroom. She wasn't even asking much. She had a relatively small make up back considering her profession. She only wanted a place to store that, and her feminine necessities. Henry already had those in the drawer for when she needed them. All she had left to do was chuck her spare make up bag, a few hair ties and a brush into her drawer, and she was good to go.

Not to mention, the man had a trash can already in his bathroom. One that he knew existed. Even her father would regularly forget about the trash can in the bathroom growing up. Every Tuesday, he would go through the house and empty each of the smaller bins so he could take all the trash out to the side of the road for trash pick up day. Every Wednesday, her mother would ask him if he got all the trash cans. Every time he would assure that he emptied all of them. Then she would ask about the bathroom and he would stare at her blankly before finally mumbling a small 'oh'.

Finally, Faye reached a point where she couldn't hold it in anymore; her heart was about to explode if she didn't let it out. Henry had just put Briar and Kal off to bed when he found her, a crying mess on the couch. Naturally, his first instinct was to panic. Was she hurt? Did he forget something important? Was it their anniversary? Did they even have one? They've only been involved for a few months, right? Was he ignoring her? Did she feel like he was pushing her aside again? Ultimately, he took his brother's sage like advice that had been freely given at each of his other's brother's weddings.

"Faye, while I don't know exactly what I did wrong, I can see that you are upset, and I am sorry."

"For what?" She sniffled, popping her head up from her knees all to quickly.

"I don't know." Henry admitted, cautiously sitting next to her.

"Henry, I'm not upset. I'm the happiest I've been in a long time." Faye explained, only furthering Henry's confusion.

"Then why are you crying?" He asked slowly, growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. He knew females could be complicated, but how could you be happy and crying at the same time? Those were two opposite emotions, weren't they?

"I'm just really happy." Faye wiped at her eyes, scooting closer to Henry to lean against him.

"That doesn't explain why you are crying..."

"Haven't you ever been so happy you cried?"

"I've been so happy it's brought a tear to my eye, yes. Never full out sobbing like something horrible just happened. I thought I forgot an anniversary or something!"

"We don't have one." Faye pointed out, as Henry wrapped his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer.

"I'm sure we do."

"We never officially agreed to be exclusive or anything."

"Have you been doing things I should be aware of?" Henry asked, raising a brow as he looked down at her.

"No. Have you?"

"Of course not. I was under the impression we've been a thing for a while now. Unlike some people."

"You never said anything! You can't just decide we're a thing without telling me!"

"Well do you want this to be a thing?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind it..."

"Then let's just retro date it. What was a significant even between us? Me meeting Briar?"

"No, we just flirted a lot back then."

"True."

"When you asked me to spend more time here?"

"That's way too recent. We've definitely been involved longer than that. What about that night on the couch? When you started dry humping me during the movie?"

"That was a fun night." Faye sighed wistfully.

"Certainly sticks out to me." Henry agreed.

"Deal. We'll figure out what day that was and that can be our anniversary."

"I need to put it in my phone. If I forget I get the feeling I won't ever hear the end of it."

"Do you even know when my birthday is?" Faye asked suddenly, twisting in his embrace to look up at him."

"That would be another good date to put in my calendar."

"What about Briar's birthday?"

"Ok, that one I know! You invited me over to help make her a cake. And then Briar led me into your room right after you'd finished showering. God, that ass..."

"Focus, Romeo!" Faye giggled, playfully swatting at his shoulder.

"Ugh, not Romeo. Choose a different story, I don't want us to end up dead over a misunderstanding."

"Uhh... I'm drawing a blank. You go first."

"You started it, you go first."

"You know, it's getting kinda late, I should go shower before I get too tired." Faye excused herself, slipping from his grip and scurrying out of his reach before he could snatch her up again.

"You, Miss Warren, are a tease." Henry pouted, flopping himself against the back of the couch.

"I am no such thing." Faye gasped, slowly peeling her shirt up over her head. She let it fall silently to the floor, annoyed when her actions went unnoticed. She was in no mood to be ignored.

This time, she reached behind herself, unhooking her bra and slinging it at him, the supportive garment landing directly on his face. It took Henry a second to realize what was going on, picking it up and straightening it out, his mind quickly connecting the dots once he realized what it was. He was on his feet in an instant, growling as he chased his laughing prey down the hall.

He snatched her up around her waist just before she could reach the door, playfully biting at the junction of her neck. "Got you, you little minx." He growled, pressing a kiss to the mark he had left.

"Well that means you get to lay claim to me." Faye giggled, reaching back to cup the back of his neck, pulling his head down for an awkwardly angled kiss.

"Bedroom." Henry muttered against her lips, blindly reaching for the knob and pushing the door open. He set Faye down, swatting at her ass as she slipped by, eagerly following and locking the door behind themselves. By the time he had yanked his shirt off, Faye had already pushed her sweats and panties down, crawling up the bed and giving him a view he never wanted to forget, her glistening peach peeking out from between her thighs, her ass swaying delightfully as she moved.

"Condom?" Faye asked, settling herself down in the middle of the bed, propped up on her elbows.

"Side table." Henry responded, nodding to the table on his side of the bed as he got to work shedding the rest of his clothing. "They better fucking be in date." He added after a second of thought.

"How long have you had them?" Faye snorted, digging through the drawer until she came up with the foil packet.

"Not a clue. They haven't been seeing much use in the last year or so."

"COVID?"

"Fucking COVID." Henry grumbled, crawling onto the edge of the bed, his eyes slowly drinking her in.  He grabbed her by the ankle, reverently uncrossing her legs, his strong hands kneading into the arch of her foot as he laid gentle kisses along the ink decorating the top of it. "What's this called?" He asked, his fingers brushing across the design.

"Mandala." Faye explained, Henry nodding and pressing a gentle kiss to it and slowly sliding his hands up, crossing over to her other leg to trace his fingers over the owl.

"This is an owl." He stated definitively, pressing another kiss to her artwork. He then slid up more, nudging her arm out of his way to look more closely at the mermaid he had found before, letting his fingers trace over it, causing Faye to giggle and squirm. "And here is a ticklish little mermaid." He teased, kissing across her torso, just beneath her bare breasts, craning his neck and smiling proudly "Ah ha! I thought I saw something over there." He mumbled proudly, pressing a kiss to the small butterfly on that side of her ribcage, eliciting another giggle from the woman trapped below him. "A ticklish little butterfly! Any others around here?" He asked, pressing kisses back across her torso, wrapping his lips around a nipple when she shook her head.

His tongue flicked against the rapidly hardening bud, grabbing onto her arms and pinning them down when she began to squirm more beneath him.

"Now then, I know about this one." He continued, lifting her right hand to kiss at the leaves and vines wrapping around her wrist and thumb. "And you showed me this one." He pressed an almost reverent kiss to the inside of her forearm, gently moving her arms up over her head. "Now, I can think of one more..." He mumbled, sliding a hand beneath Faye's hip and flipping her over onto her stomach all too easily, managing to keep her trapped beneath him the entire time. "And that's back here." His fingers traced along the black and white depiction of a tree, winding along her spine, its branches reaching up to her shoulders.

"Any others I should know about?" He asked, sliding his hand beneath Faye's hips, trailing lower to slide his fingers through the slick heat gathering between her thighs.

"That's all." Faye moaned, grinding down into his probing fingers.

"You do have quite a few, Miss Warren." Henry finally conceded, his hand sliding back just far enough to roll her back onto her back. "But I would consider this a work of art as well." He purred, diving in to kiss and suck at her slick folds shamelessly.

"Oh shit." Faye panted, her back arching at the sudden stimulation. "Fuck, Henry. I want you now."

"Patience, Miss Warren. I'm going to need you nice and relaxed before you try and take me."

"Damnit, Henry!" Faye growled, using her legs to pull his face even closer to her core, effectively silencing him with her pussy for the time being. "I can sink the Titanic with how fucking wet I am. Now."

"So bossy." Henry tutted, using the leverage he had against her to push her knees almost to her chest, eagerly diving back in, licking, sucking and kissing like a starving man at a feast.

"Fuuuuck." Faye groaned, gripping the sheets with one hand, the other trying to grip the hair on the back of his head, only to be met with fuzz. "Damnit all!" She hissed, cupping the back of his head instead to pull him closer. Henry was all to happy to comply with her demands, even slipping two fingers inside her dripping entrance, curling them in search of the sensitive spot he knew was there, grinning triumphantly when she started squirming harder. One part of her wanted to go up into his teasing mouth. The other wanted to go down onto his wandering fingers.

Henry finally took mercy on her, latching onto her bundle of nerves and sucking hard, his tongue flicking over it as his fingers tapped out a rhythm inside of her, easily sending her toppling over the edge, leaving her a panting mess below him.

"I think you're relaxed enough now." He taunted playfully, gently moving to let her lay flat on the bed.

"I want dick." Faye panted, glaring up at him as he attempted to innocently open the condom, shooting what she assumed was meant to be a wink her way.

"What a coincidence, I just so happen to have one right here, wrapped and ready to go."

"Shut up and fuck me." Faye groaned, rolling her eyes at his antics. Of course, he would manage to still be a dork in the middle of having sex.

"Would you like to stay on your back, or do you want to try something else?"

"I don't have the energy to bounce around on your cock right now."

"Alrighty then." He half laughed, nudging her knees apart to make room for himself, caging her in below his body once again. "This might sting a bit." He advised, gripping himself by the base, sliding the head of his cock between her swollen petals. He slowly pressed inside, rocking his way in until the tip of his cock was pressed firmly against her cervix.

"Are you alright?" Henry asked, wincing when her nails dug even harder into his shoulders.

"Yeah." Faye forced out, trying to slow her breathing. "I'm actively being split in half, but yeah."

"I'm sorry." Henry murmured softly, peppering her face with kisses as he began to roll his hips. Not full on thrusting, no. He saved that for when she started to squirm beneath him, trying to get him to press against all the right spots inside her. Then and only then did he rise up onto his knees, holding her up by her hips to pound into her, her nails now scratching at the sheets.

"Fuck, right there!" Faye gasped, her back arching when he brushed against a particularly sensitive area. "Fuck, don't stop, don't stop!" Henry's head fell back at her pleading, loving how she kept begging for more, her pleas devolving until only his name, 'please' and 'more' fell from her lips.

"Come on, cum all over my cock. Let me watch you come undone." Henry encouraged, slamming into her harder until he felt her walls clenching around him, her head thrown back as she begged him to keep going. Henry didn't last long past her orgasm, finishing himself only a few thrusts later.

"We did it." Faye panted as Henry slowly withdrew, careful to tie the condom off and toss it into the bathroom trashcan.

"Did what?" Henry inquired as he crawled back into bed, letting Faye curl into his side and pulling the blanket over both of them.

"We finally had sex."

"I shall be sure to also mark this date on my calendar."

"Dork."

"Yes, but I'm your dork."

Taglist: @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient

[tamorasky]

Chapter 9 - February 1947

Summary: 1947. It had been nearly four years since she had received a letter from her sister. Now with the end of the war and her impending wedding, Anna Rendelle is more determined than ever to find her sister.

1943. All her life Elsa Rendelle had been told to be good, know her place and to marry well. When an opportunity arises to make something of herself, finding herself in Occupied France as a part of a larger network of secret agents.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff, Elsa/Honeymaren, Anna/Hans (Briefly)

AO3

Note:Thank you Molly who recommended Hans should be going into property law!! My last exam is tomorrow and then once I'm done work on friday, I have three weeks off of work and school. So I'm hoping I can update Rise to Me more over those weeks. Can't promise but it is the hope!!Thank you so much for reading 💕 It's very appreciated!

Anna sits in The Clarence by herself, a slow warming beer sitting almost untouched in front of her as she jots down notes in a book. She is clearly overdressed for the pub, wearing a new pair of stockings and a blue button-down dress with black gloves extending to her elbows.

She overlooks her writing, carefully reading the chicken scratch in front of her. Despite years of being drilled to write neatly and in cursive, Anna had never perfected her writing. She always printed, despite it taking longer than cursive and held her pencil wrong; having the lower end resting against her index finger as her fist curled around the pen.

“You’ve barely touched your beer.” A deep voice comments, as the figure belonging to it, settles in the seat across from her against the wall. Anna sighs looking up at Kristoff, clearly frustrated.

“You’re late.” She comments. “I’ve been here nearly an hour.”

“Well, clearly you have a better sense of time than I do.” Kristoff shrugs, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

“No! I don’t have time for you to order a drink. Just take mine.” Anna slides her glass with the coaster underneath across the table.

“I don’t want your drink; I’ll just get my own.”

“Stop being such a baby and take my beer.” Anna huffs, the pint now sitting between the pair as she returns to her notebook. Kristoff reluctantly reaches forward, ensuring he knows where the lipstick stain on the glass is as he sips from it.

He groans, grimacing in disgust. “It’s warm.”

“You should have gotten here earlier.” She retorts without looking up from the black notebook, ignoring Kristoff’s groans as he sips the warming beer. “So I was looking into it and I can get tickets on the ferry from Folkstone to Le Havre for 5 pounds each on the 7th of February.”

“Alright,” Kristoff nods, sitting forward in his seat as if beginning to take this meeting seriously. “Do you have any idea what your sister’s code name could be?”

“Code name?” Anna’s brows furrow in confusion, it hadn’t occurred to her

“Yeah, I very much doubt that a government agency would send agents without some sort of protection.” Kristoff states, “Often times when my troop encountered members of the resistance, they would have code names or alias to protect themselves.”

Anna finally looks up from the notebook, cocking her head slightly. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah,” Kristoff responds, reaching into his pockets to grab his pack of cigarettes. She watches as the blonde lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply. She had expected him to continue, but he doesn’t.  

“Okay well, I don’t know. But it has to be in her file, right?” Anna asks, the pen hanging loosely in her hand. Kristoff shrugs, finishing the pint with a groan.

“I would assume so. But it all depends if you can get access to it. Look and see if it on the paperwork you have for her. If not, you might need to get your fiancé’s brother to get that for you or see if the French have any records.” He explains, taking another drag of the cigarette.

“Will the French have records?”

Kristoff nods, exhaling smoke which is followed by a sigh. “Yeah…they’ll mostly likely be arrest records.”

Anna’s gaze drops to the table, her heart pounding in her ears as she thinks about the possible arrest of her sister. It was the worst scenario she had imaged Elsa to have gone through, being questioned by Germans, beaten and put into one of those horrid camps. The ones which the newscasters on the BBC are talking about more and more every day.

“Will we be able to access them?” Anna finally asks, her gaze fixated on the table as she draws her lower lip between her teeth.

“I’m not sure if we will, but we can always try. Paris isn’t that far from Arras.” Kristoff shrugs, glancing at the bar to check if the crowd had dissipated. It had not. “But speaking of which, we need to discuss payment.”

“P-payment?” Anna furrows her brows, confounded by the American’s forwardness about money. She glances up from the table, wondering if he is joking. He is not.

“Yeah well…i-it’s just…” Kristoff awkwardly trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Gas isn’t free.”

“Oh…right.” Anna blinks. The price of gas, accommodations and food hadn’t occurred to her in regard to their journey over the Channel. “Um well…I can pay for half of the essentials.”

“Half?” Kristoff stares at the young woman incredulously. For a moment he can’t believe this woman across from him had barged her way into his life, demanded he accompany her to France with no intention of paying him for his services.

“I mean, you’re looking for someone as well,” Anna explains, crossing her arms across her chest. “I think it’s rather unfair to expect me to pay you. It’s not like you’re making money here anyway, a few weeks in France won’t be any different.”

“I mean, I also don’t need to accompany you.” Kristoff glances over Anna once again; observing the pearl bracelet around her wrist over the silk gloves she wears, His gaze resting on the pearl earrings she currently wore. “I’m sure you have a trust system you can access.”

Anna stares at the man across from her, her red lips pursed as she stares at the man with cold eyes. “Fine. I will pay for our accommodations, food and gas. But any alcohol you order is on your own dime.”

“Alright, fine.” Kristoff huffs, standing from the table without another word before making his way to a free place at the bar. Anna shakes her head, rolling her eyes as he walks away from her.

Glancing down at her bracelet, Anna runs her fingers over the piece of jewelry. A piece which once had belonged to her mother, as had the earrings. They were the only pieces of jewelry salvaged from the wreckage of their family home in London. It always breaks her heart slightly at the thought of her mother’s silver locket containing the photo of both she and Elsa had been lost. It was the piece Anna wishes she could have.

Since the bombing, Anna had worked for everything she had. The gloves she wore tonight having been restitched several times, only ever having three pairs of stockings at a time. Hell, she barely made enough to buy the makeup she sold at the counter.

She doesn’t need him telling her what she is worth.

A figure appears next to Anna sliding between the chair and the table next to them. With a huff, Anna doesn’t bother looking at the man. “Will you be much more agreeable now that you have your beer?”

“I’d actually be a lot happier if you were to buy me a glass of wine.” The man retorts a voice that does not belong to Kristoff. In shock Anna looks up, baffled as Olaf stands next to her with an amused smirk.

“Oh, my god. I didn’t even notice it was you.” She stands in that moment, wrapping her arms around his shoulders for a quick embrace. As she withdraws from him, Anna places her hand on his arm, the wool of his peacoat rubbing against her gloves. “Sit down with us please.”

“I didn’t realize you and Hans were having pre-dinner drinks. I would have joined you earlier.” The light-blonde man comment, removing his grey woollen fedora.

“I’m not with Hans actually. We’re still meeting him at the restaurant.” Anna explains slowly, unsure how to justify meeting a man, who isn’t her fiancé, at a bar.

Olaf’s light brows furrow in confusion. “I didn’t realize you had friends other than me.”

“Haha, very funny.” Anna rolls her eyes sarcastically as Olaf takes his seat next to her. The man beams at her, clearly pleased with himself.

“Oh hello.” Kristoff’s American voice resounds through Anna as he stands behind her. Kristoff stares at the strange man sitting next to Anna. Olaf’s chestnut eyes dart back and forth between his friend and the American stranger.

“So...are we just collecting Americans now?” Olaf asks, his fingers tapping against the table.

Kristoff’s brows knit together, slightly taken aback by the man’s question, unsure how to respond. He moves between tables to his seat against the wall, settling on the chair as he places down his beer.

“No, we’re not. Kristoff this is Olaf Sommer, my childhood friend. Olaf this is Kristoff Bjorgman, he is…helping me find Elsa.” Anna introduces the two men. She is surprised as Kristoff reaches across the table, extending his hand to Olaf.

Her childhood friend takes Kristoff’s hand, shaking it with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Kristoff responds, withdrawing his hand from the other man’s grasp. He picks up his pint, taking a sip from the glass.

Anna glances back to Olaf. “What time is it?”

Olaf pulls up the sleeves of his coat and shirt, taking a peek at the silver watch occupying his wrist. “It’s 10 minutes to 7.”

“We should get going.” Anna sighs, her hands falling to her thighs before reaching back for her green coat. “I told Hans we would meet him Wiltons at 7, He’ll most likely be there already.”

“I was just getting settled.” Olaf huffs, re-buttoning his jacket once again. “I wanted to get a bottle of wine.”

“You can get one at the restaurant,” Anna responds, standing as she fastens her coat and grabs her purse.

“It will be a lot cheaper here,” Kristoff interjects with a shrug.

“He has a point.” Olaf waggles his brows at his friend, holding his hat against his chest. Anna glares at the two men, her hands settled on her hips.

“I don’t like where this is going. You.” She points to Olaf. “Come with me. And you.” Pointing to Kristoff “Stay.”

“What am I a dog?”

“For all intents and purposes yes, you are a dog.” Anna retorts, taking Olaf by the wrist to lead him out of the bar. The pair push onto the street, Olaf offering his arm to Anna as they walk down dark Dover Street.

“He seems like a nice chap.” Olaf comments.

“He is a pain in my ass,” Anna responds with a groan. “I had to go all the way to Spitalfields last week to find him and then he had the nerve to brush me off coldly. Then he barged into my work and Mrs. Stei-”

“Wait? You went to Spitalfields?” Olaf asks, turning to his friend with a look of horror.

“Weren’t you listening? Yes, so he storms into the store and wants to me-”

“No Anna! You don’t get to blow this over; you found this guy in Spitalfields?” He repeats, his voice rising at the news.

“It isn’t a big deal, anyway Kristoff is taking me over me to France to look for Elsa,” Anna states, staring up at her friend. Worried how he will take the news over this.

“Wait. Wait…wait…” Olaf trails off, trying to sort through all of the information Anna handed to him. “You mean to tell me; you’re going to France with a man you just met…from Spitalfields…Anna are you insane? Your body is going to end up at the bottom of the Channel.”

“I’ll be fine.” She waves him off, unconcerned about her safety. Olaf is about to question her further, but Anna detaches from his arm at the sight of Hans. She rushes towards her fiancé, dressed in his formal army uniform.

She places her hands on the lapels of his olive-green jacket, smoothing them while peering up at him with a smile. Hans smiles down at his fiancé, his hand settling on her waist before pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“You look beautiful.” He comments, offering his arm to her. Anna accepts the gesture as Olaf comes to stand next to the couple. Without hesitation Hans reaches over, extending his hand to Olaf.

“It’s nice to see you again Hans.” Olaf forces a smile as he shakes the other man’s hand.

“You too Olaf.” Hans nods, before glancing back to Anna. “Shall we go inside?”

“Yes please, I am starving!” Anna exclaims as the trio make their way into the restaurant. Upon reaching the doors, Anna stops which causes Hans to halt to a stop as well.

“Oh yes, the typical stop before entering a building.” Hans chuckles, running his finger against the back of her hand. Her chest constricts with guilt, hating that she had to make him stop every time.

She forces laughter at his supposed joke, patting him on the arm to indicate she is ready, even though she isn’t. Panic blooming from her chest as they step into the building, trying to reassure herself that everything is fine. Hopeful that perhaps that memory won’t return this time, as it didn’t always when walking through doors.

Olaf’s hand comes to her bicep, rubbing it gently as they step into the foyer. Glancing over her shoulder, Anna offers him a reassuring smile hoping to bring relief to her friend. She knows how it worries Olaf, not wanting to ruin his night over his worry for her.

Hans approaches the maître d’ with her still on his arm. Instead of listening to the details of their reservations, Anna stares at the red-carpeted floor, relieved that her silliness won’t get in the way of a pleasant evening.

They are led to their table silently, the music of a string quartet echoing through the quiet room. As they walk through the room, Anna can’t help but feel out of place here. She never feels as if she belongs in these restaurants that Hans brought her to. It isn’t that Anna is ungrateful, quite the opposite. She just isn’t used to it at all.

Hans glances at Anna with a smile, inquiring after a bottle of wine that she can’t recall the name of. She returns the gesture with a nod, reaching across the table to place her hand over her fiancés’ as he hands the wine menu to the waiter.

“So, Olaf,” Hans calls glancing up from his menu to the blonde seated across the table from him. “How is the life of a solicitor?”

“It’s fine. You know…working in inheritance and contract law isn’t the most appealing field.” Olaf shrugs, tapping his long fingers against the table. “So rather tiresome, I’m afraid.”

Anna clears her throat, waiting for her friend to ask a follow-up question. Instead, the blonde’s attention is focused on the wine glass being placed in front of him. “Hans is going to practice law once we relocate to Washington.”

“That’s good.” Olaf comments, although Anna isn’t sure if he is talking to her or the waiter as the man holds the label to her friend. The young woman clears her throat once again, reaching over with her foot to kick Olaf’s shoe under the table.

His gaze snaps towards her, his brows knit together questioningly. Anna stares at him pointedly, darting her gaze towards Hans before resting on the blonde man once again.

Olaf sighs, rolling his eyes. “So, Hans, what type of law will you practice?” he inquires reluctantly, taking a generous sip of his freshly poured wine.

“Property Law, my mother comes from a prominent legal family in DC so when we get established, I’ll work out everything,” Hans responds, taking a sip of his red wine.

“I thought you graduated from Westpoint, isn’t that a military school?” Olaf’s brows furrow, unsure how the 26-year-old man before him could possibly have a law degree and be a graduate of Westpoint.

“I did. Top of my class.” Hans states, staring at Olaf. “I’ve completed two years of my law degree but enrolled at Westpoint in 1940 due to my father’s urging.”

“Hans comes from a prominent military family in Virginia. But plans on finishing his law degree when we return.” Anna further explains, trying to regain her best friend’s attention.

“Enough about us though, Hans,” Olaf calls across the table, seeming to be finally interested in Anna’s fiancé. “What do you think of Anna’s travel ideas?”

She sputters as she sips her wine, not expecting her friend to bring up her impending journey to France. Coughing, Anna makes eye contact with Olaf, slightly shaking her head. Hans glances from the auburn-haired woman back to the blonde man, raising his brow at the two of them.

“What journey?”

Olaf’s eyes widen in realization, his mouth hanging open as he tries to piece together a lie. “Uhhhh…Spitalfields. I meant Anna’s travelling to Spitalfields last week.”

“Why on earth did you go to Spitalfields?” Hans inquires, glancing back to Anna. A wrinkle appears between his brows as he scrutinizes his fiancé.

“I um…” Her breath catches in her throat as she attempts to think of an excuse. There really is no reason to go to Spitalfields, especially this time of year.

“Cheese…” Olaf blurts, causing the couple to look towards him.

“Cheese?” Hans asks slowly, not completely believing the pair in front of them.

“Yup,” Anna nods, slowly pulling her gaze away from Olaf to Hans. Trying her best to sound confident in her lie. “There is a certain…cheese shop I like in Spitalfields.”

God, they were terrible liars.

Hans huffs glancing between the two of them as he takes another sip of his wine. Setting the crystal on the white tablecloth, he clears his throat. “What is going on?”

Anna glances down to her lap, her hands gripping the skirt of her dress as she summons the courage to tell him. Olaf sits back in his chair, staring at his friend with concern as he fiddles with the stem of his wineglass.

“I’m going to France.” She states, not bringing herself to make eye-contact with Hans yet. Silence envelops the table at the news. Anna waits for him to say something, anything to her at that moment. But he doesn’t.

Reluctantly she glances up from her lap. Hans stares at the tab, his mouth pressed into a thin line. Anna opens her mouth to call out to him in that moment, but he looks up at her. “We’ll talk about this later.”

She nods, glancing back down to the menu in front of her, trying to distract herself from the impending conversation between her and Hans. The rest of the dinner passes without much conversation, save for the odd comment Olaf made towards Hans or Anna.

The two men talk politics briefly once they receive their meals, Anna doesn’t feel the need to contribute to their conversation. She eats in silence as if she was dining alone, drinking her wine periodically. Hans doesn’t even inquire if Anna wants dessert, instead immediately asking for the cheque to be delivered.

Hans and Olaf shake hands as they part outside of the restaurant, offering one another a polite smile before the blonde man turns to Anna. With a sigh, Olaf wraps his arms around Anna, his finger brushing against her green coat as he whispers in her ear.

“Good luck.”

Anna smiles at her friend as they withdraw from one another, her hand brushing against the wool of his grey peacoat. She turns to Hans, who stares down at her, offering her an arm as they turn from the other man.

“Should I hail a taxi for us?” Hans inquires as they meander down Jermyn street with one other.

“Could we walk instead? It’s not like we get many nice nights like these.” Anna comments, peering up at him hoping that he’ll agree to her request.

“Alright.” Hans nods, patting her hand with his own. They walk in silence for a little longer, neither one of them knowing what to say.

Cars pass them on the January night, tires rolling in the puddles on the street from all the rain experienced this week. Though it is to be expected for London in January, Anna misses the sun and cool breeze while walking along the Thames in the evening when the sun sets later in the day.

“Hans,” Anna finally calls as they reach Wardour Street, a quiet street that ensures they won’t have an audience. “I think we need to talk about what happened at supper.”

“I…I just can’t believe I had to hear it from Olaf about this Anna.” Hans shakes his head, clearly disappointed. “When were you planning on telling me? Were you going to send me a telegraph from the ship?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that…I just…was looking for the right moment to tell you.” Anna shakes her head, staring down the street ahead of them. “I was going to tell you, I swear.”

“I’d rather you not go alone. If you had told me about your plans, I would have taken time off to accompany you.” Hans shakes his head. “I don’t like the idea of you going alone.”

Anna falls silent, her heart pounding in her chest, peering up at him with a grimace. “I’m not going alone…actually.”

“E-excuse me?” Hans looks down at his fiancé, his brows knit together. “With whom?”

“Your brother’s letter mentioned a man who was also making inquiries with the records department of the Pentagon…” Anna trails off, glancing down at her mary-jane shoes as they walk. “Well, I found his address here in London and I went to see him. Which is why I went to Spitalfields. To meet with him.”

“So, wait, you’re planning on going to France. With a man, you barely know. And you expect me, your fiancé, to just…let you go?” Hans asks with a huff.

“Hans this is important to me. Please understand.” Anna pleads as they turn right onto Hollen Street. “Kristoff will take care of me and make sure I don’t act brashly.”

Hans raises a brow at her as they turn onto Newman Passage. “Kristoff? Should I be worried?”

“Of course not!” Anna exclaims. “He’s a drunkard who spends most of his money at a murder bar in Spitalfields.”

“Murder bar?” Hans chuckles, shaking his head as they turn left onto Rathbone. “Is that the actual name?”

“No, it’s not…but it might as well be.” Anna sighs as they approach her boarding house. The sound of her heels echoing through the quiet street. The couple stop in front of the tall brick building with the rounded door frame.

“I just don’t know Anna.” Hans sighs as Anna withdraws from him to stand in front of her fiancé. “This idea of you going across to France with a stranger, to look for your sister who has been missing for years…is ludicrous.”

“I know how it must sound but…” Anna sighs, her gaze drifting to the ground where the garbage sits on the street. “I need to at least try. I will never forgive myself if I don’t.”

Hans stares at her, cupping both her cheeks to tilt up her head, emerald eyes meeting sapphire ones as he gazes at her. “Alright, I don’t like it. But if you need to do this, I won’t stop you.”

“Hans…Thank you.” She throws her arms around him, holding his body close to hers as tears threaten to spill. Anna has his blessing, finally after months of trying to explain and attempting to be understood. She is going to France to find Elsa.

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

Hi there :) I loved your soulmate short fic! Do you still take requests for the short fic ask? If so: 22 and Phrack, please :) If not, that's totally fine!

Of course! Here you go! (also for Anonymous who asked for the same number)

Hope you enjoy it!

two miserable people meeting at a wedding au

---------------------

“Excuse me, I think that’s mine.”

Phryne pointed in irritation at the plate on the table and, more specifically, the sugary confection upon it. It was bad enough that the caterers hadn’t provided enough cake for everyone, but what really irked her was that even after she’d managed to heroically snag the last slice, she’d still somehow wound up empty handed.

Well, no, not “somehow.”

She knew exactly how.

The photographer had asked to take her photo and she’d put it down for one second and this...this… THIEF had swooped in to steal it. Luckily she’d tracked him down before he’d managed to take his first filched bite.

“Sorry?”

He looked so confused at the accusation she graciously amended her assessment — this daft man had swooped in to steal it.

“That’s my cake,” she told him. “I put it down. You picked it up. I’d like it back now.” The man’s eyes darted between her and the dessert, a doleful expression on his handsome face, and her ire softened. Slightly.

“Uh, yes… yes of course.”

He started to hand it to her, but instead of taking the cake, Phryne took the seat next to him. With one hand resting on the very edge of the plate, she offered the stranger a smile.

“Ok, don’t take this the wrong way, but, quite frankly, you look miserable.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Do I?”

“You do. You look miserable, and I know I am, so I’ll make you a deal — saddest story gets the slice.”

His lips turned down in an expression she took to mean thoughtfulness, before he nodded. “Deal.” Then he made a little “go ahead” motion with his hand, before putting it on the other side of the plate in a mirror image of Phryne's. “Ladies first.”

“Well,” Phryne began, “I’m here with my assistant who begged me to be her date so she wouldn’t have to go alone, who has since abandoned me to flirt all night with some man she met at the coat check. Really at this point she’s dropped so many hints I’m surprised he hasn't made a move yet.” Phryne pointed across the room at Dot, who was currently deep in conversation with a handsome young man who was hanging on her every word. The gentleman next to her chuckled, and Phryne shot him a questioning look.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I just know him. And honestly he might not even have realized she’s flirting.”

“Well be that as it may, I’m now all alone at a wedding where I know absolutely no one and all the people I’ve tried to talk to have either been too drunk or too tedious to hold my attention.” She shot him a smile. “Present company excluded.” Phryne put a little more pressure on the plate, and started pulling it towards herself. “So you see I clearly win.”

“The bride is my ex-wife.”

Phryne’s surprise caused her to lose her grip on the plate and it skittered towards him.

“Oh.” Her eyes involuntarily found the happy couple, smiling at each other across the room, and then flew back to the man. “Oh. And you’re…” She lowered her voice. “You’re still in love with her?”

The man jerked his head up in surprise. “What? No. No. That’s not... “ He sighed. “The split was very amicable, and several years ago, and I’m happy to say we’ve remained good friends.” He waved around the room. “Hence the invitation tonight.”

“But…” Phryne supplied, helping him along.

“But…” He glanced over at a group of people two tables away who caught his look and glared back. “Some people need every story to have a villain and her family seem to have cast me in the role. It’s been a ... tense night.” He shrugged at her, a little awkwardly and not just a little sad. “So... I get cake.”

Phryne watched him, saw the hint of melancholy in his eyes with just a dash of guilt and wondered if maybe a small part of him had assigned himself that role as well, though her instincts screamed that if so he’d been woefully miscast.

Well... that wouldn’t do.

She put her hand back on the plate. “Absolutely not.” He looked up at her in surprise and she shook her head. “You’ve managed to remain friends with your former wife, who, if my assistant is to be believed, is a very lovely and sensible woman. That she asked you to be here today says quite a lot about you both. You’re doing fine. I, on the other hand, am all alone and missing an exhibit opening at the Gertrude.”

He raised an eyebrow at her assessment, but there was a smile hiding in the corner of his mouth.

“Well…” He pulled the plate closer to him again. “Possession is 9/10 of the law.”

She snorted. “Yes, well, I work with a lot of lawyers, and that’s bullshit. But I’m feeling magnanimous, so we can split it.”

He did that downturned lip thing again, which she realized now was a kind of smile, and nodded. “I think I could cope with that. But I draw the line at not knowing who I’m sharing with.”

She reached over with her hand. “Phryne Fisher.”

“Jack Robinson.”

“Well Jack… bon appétit.”

They both dug in with gusto, though one more than the other — Jack was in fact making some very evocative noises she didn’t think he even realized he was making. She hid a smile behind her fork.

“So… what do you do when you’re not being miserable at weddings?”

“For work or play?” he asked.

“Start with work and we’ll see how long the cake lasts.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’m an Inspector with the Victoria Police Force.”

“Ah. Then you’re well aware that 9/10 of the law bit is bullshit.”

“I am but I wanted cake.”

Phryne laughed and took another bite. She was just about to ask what he did for play when he was engulfed from behind by a cloud of white.

“Jack! I’m so happy you’re here!” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, then looked over, took in the two forks on the one plate, and positively beamed. “And with a date! Oh that’s wonderful. I couldn’t believe it when you said you’d be attending alone.”

Phryne looked between the bride and Jack and noticed that the tips of his ears were turning red. Poor man. He really was having quite a night. Phryne watched him, could see how much he didn’t want to lie, but a man has his pride and Phryne thought this man might have actually earned his. She reached over to shake hands with the bride and save him.

“Phryne Fisher. Lovely to meet you. The ceremony was beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you so much! And that dress is gorgeous. I hope you plan to show it off on the dance floor later.” She leaned in conspiratorially towards Phryne, though of course Jack could hear. “I was a little worried Jack would be spending all his time in the game room tonight.”

Jack perked up at that. “There’s a game room?”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Yes. Michael insisted on it. For his friends mostly.” She indicated a door towards the back of the ballroom. “I tell you, I love my husband, but he is a nerd. Seems I have a type.” She winked and Phryne laughed. “Speaking of my husband, I should go find him. Wonderful meeting you, Phryne. Remember - dance floor!”

At that, the bride moved off towards the dais, but Jack’s eyes turned towards the game room. Phryne took her last bite of cake — Jack’s was long gone — and pursed her lips.

“You know…” she said, drawing his attention back to her. “I always keep an emergency Cherry Ripe in my purse at these things. In case I don’t like the food.” He looked at her questioningly and she continued. “I could be persuaded to play you for for it.”

He smiled, a sort of lopsided thing she found oddly endearing, and gestured to the room. “You’re on.”

They spent the next hour and a half in there, playing Checkers, then Chess, then Battleship, and finally Connect 4.

The time flew, though, in good conversation and light-hearted ribbing and a growing and unusual ease neither was expecting. It went so fast, in fact, that Phryne was quite surprised when they heard the announcement for the last dance.

She looked at the door at the same time Jack did. He coughed. “Should we… only because Rosie seemed — ”

“Oh, yes. Yes of course. Lead the way.”

It was a slow song, of course, and at first Phryne felt a little awkward, though she didn’t know why; she danced with relative strangers all the time. But Jack held her so… it was an almost impossible combination of respectful and intimate and she found that she wanted more of it.

The song ended, but they didn’t part. Not right away. Not until the lights came up and then they did, quickly, like they’d been caught out.

Perhaps they had.

Jack gave her an embarrassed smile, then pointed questioningly towards the exit. He walked her back to the coat check, passing her assistant and that young man speaking very low and close in an alcove, then to the front door and out onto the sidewalk.

Jack cleared his throat. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, I’m fine. And I’ll be needing to go in to collect my assistant shortly anyway, though I doubt she’ll thank me for it.” She glanced up at Jack, a flirtatious look in her eye.

“Would you like my number?” she asked him. “Just in case you ever need a date to one of these things again?”

He gave her a wry smile. “Well I only have the one ex-wife.”

“I see.” Phryne was a little surprised she’d misread that one, but it happened. Pity, though… she would have liked to hear those cake noises in a different context.

Jack continued. “But I wouldn’t mind a battleship rematch. I’m fairly certain you were cheating at the end there.” She gave a little indignant huff and he laughed, then unlocked his mobile and handed it to her.

Phryne put in her number and handed it back to him, but as she did, Jack took her hand and kissed the back of it in goodbye. It was incredibly dorky and eminently adorable and Phryne laughed in delighted surprise at the move. He gave her a little self-deprecating smile (and when had she started cataloguing his smiles?) then started walking down the street. He was several yards away when she remembered.

“Oh! Don’t you want to collect?”

He stopped and turned around. “Collect what?”

“The candy bar. By my count, you won.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like Cherry Ripes.”

She crossed her arms and smirked at him. “Then why play?”

Jack grinned at her — really grinned, and she was definitely starting to catalog his smiles — and spread his arms wide on the sidewalk. “Phryne, I won the minute you decided to sit next to me. The rest was just… the icing on the stolen cake.”

She shook her head, but couldn’t stop her own grin from bursting forth. “That is a terrible pun!” she shouted after him, as he continued walking backwards down the sidewalk. “And I want my number back!”

“Can’t hear you!” he shouted back, still grinning.

Phryne narrowed her eyes, but her smile would not abate, which somewhat lessened the effect. It was hard to believe, standing on the sidewalk and feeling the way she felt now, that she had been so miserable just a few hours ago.

She really was looking forward to their rematch.

She was going to absolutely wallop him in Battleship.

| Short Fic Ask |

[snowbellewells]

“Still Breathing”

Whumptober Prompts 2018 ///  Day #4: “No Stop!”

Okay, since I signed up for the OuaT Winter Whump event in November, I’m trying to get the juices flowing - especially since I have not written tons of fic in this genre yet.  I figured if I attempted some of the Whump-tober Prompts that I’ve seen floating around, that might serve as good practice.  This is more mental/emotional whump (hopefully it qualifies), set in the season six finale and changing events just a bit in one place, if only slightly, but mainly just allowing us to see and feel it from Killian’s point of view. It’s just what came to my mind when I read the prompt.  I’m not really sure who to tag, so maybe just a few folks.  Let me know if you’d like to be added when I try others over the next days…

Tagging: @kmomof4 @spartanguard @hollyethecurious @jennjenn615 @winterbaby89 @laschatzi @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @therooksshiningknight

“Still Breathing”

By: @snowbellewells

“Emma, wait Love!” the desperate cry was out of his mouth, slipping past his lips even before he’d fully realized the thought.  Already moving forward, the impulse again automatic, to be at her side when she faced any foe, he was brought up short by Dave’s arm flung out to block him and fought against his father-in-law blindly, unable to comprehend the action.

“No, stop!” he pled vainly, his voice wheedling in a way he hated; the weakness for a second reminding him of a 10-year-old on a ship, afraid of the dark and waking up to find the lantern snuffed out and his father gone, he and his brother left to be buffeted by the cruel hands of Fate. He would not be the victim of some prophesied vision, some possible future plan beyond his control, not when his Swan would pay the price to see it realized. He couldn’t understand why any of them were willing to let her take this risk, why she herself would do so after the doubts and tremors and weeks haunted by the way she had seen this face-off end. Still, no matter how he threw himself against the Prince’s larger, bulkier frame, the other man wouldn’t let him past.  Murmuring some drivel about “letting her achieve her destiny” and “our only hope” and “everyone’s best chance”, Killian very nearly hauled off to punch the bloody royal on the nose, pleading in last ditch abandon, “Swan, You don’t have to do this!”

He understood that Emma was the Savior - of the town, of Happy Endings, of her family, and of the realm.  Still she was also his personal savior and True Love.  Though she was a hero through and through, and would give all she had for those she loved, Killian could not stand by and watch her give her very life. He wouldn’t survive it - not this time.  Broken in a way he never had been before, impossible to recover from, he would shatter into a thousand pieces if she were gone.  There simply had to be another way...if he could only get to her.

However, to his abject horror, right before his eyes, Emma tossed her sword aside, facing the hooded figure weaponless with a brave resolve he thrilled to see, even as his mouth went dry in terror. She spread her arms wide, inviting the strike she knew was coming, and he couldn’t hold back the cry of agony that escaped him unbidden.  He felt the plunging strike to her gut that they had dreaded together for months now as if it were sinking into his own skin and sinew.  He would throw himself in front of her before the blade, if only he could get past her bloody father still holding him back.

The hooded figure struck hard and fast; the last words his love offered in challenge not even registering as Killian was felled by the nightmarish sight before him.  Light burst from the point of impact - white, blinding, and enveloping Emma, her attacker, and the entire area around them.  Until the blaze began to dim, he couldn’t see what had become of his wife.  Sparks drifted up, and then slowly Main Street returned to the darkness of night, lit only by streetlights. Thankfully, the hooded figure was gone, presumably blasted from existence for all he knew or cared, but Emma lay prone on the street before them, lifeless and still.

Dave’s muscular arms finally released him, as the prince himself slumped in stunned disbelief, and without that steadying force, Killian crumbled to the pavement on his knees.  His heart seized in his chest - ancient, gnarled, and scarred, he knew it would now finally cease to beat, its reason for doing so gone.  Only an hour married, he had already lost her, failed her, proven himself the worst kind of husband who could not even keep his wife by his side.

The ring on his hand, placed there so recently in the most exquisitely joyful moment he had ever experienced, now seemed to cut into his flesh, burning and mocking him with how fragile and fleeting their perfect moment had been.

He half-staggered and half-crawled to her side, not sure how he still drew breath, where he gathered her awkwardly in his arms, her upper body resting across his lap, and he stared tearfully down into her motionless face, his single, shaking hand brushing flyaway strands of her golden hair off her cheeks and neck, praying for some sign of life. ‘Please, Love, please, come back to me…’ his mind echoed hollowly, hopeless of any such chance but unable to fathom survival without her.

He was unconsciously almost rocking with her in his arms when Henry dropped down beside them.  The brave lad met his eyes for a second, pleading and a dauntless sort of faith in his expression that Killian had not possessed since he was a young lieutenant embarking on a hero’s quest with his brother long ago. Hating to see the young boy he had come to love as his own lose that same optimism he had once held, Killian still nodded and made room for the young man to draw near his mother, to bend over her and press a kiss to her forehead. The rainbow ripple of magic light that poured outward from the point of contact brought Emma gasping to back them again, green eyes blinking in confused wakefulness and jolting his heart’s beat back into rhythm.  

She found his gaze unerringly, a small, sad little smile that knew what he had just suffered on her lips. It seemed he would keep breathing yet a while longer.

[katsbarrells]

That I Would Be Good

(1/?)

Word Count: 1,675

Read On AO3.

Teaser: Nicole Haught could count on one hand the number of times she’d stared down the barrel of a gun. In fact, two of the five times had occurred the same night, in the same room, within the same ten minutes, with the eldest Earp standing on the other end of the barrel. Each time, she’d managed to walk away unscathed…every time – except for this one.

 Nicole Haught could count on one hand the number of times she’d stared down the barrel of a gun. In fact, two of the five times had occurred the same night, in the same room, within the same ten minutes, with the eldest Earp standing on the other end of the barrel. Each time, she’d managed to walk away unscathed…every time – except for this one. 

Before she could blink, before she could call out Waverly’s name, a fire was sparking within a long barreled Colt .45; and a piece of lead was slicing through the air and burying itself into the soft armor she had adorned beneath her uniform…through the armor and into her abdominal cavity. Level II bullet proof vests were standard for law enforcement officers across the country, but none of them were made to withstand the fatal combination of ballistics and magic.  

Nicole hit the wall seconds after the bullet had already pierced her internal organs, and down she went. 

“Now you know what it feels like when people take your things.”

*****

Death itself is both a painless and solitary experience. Death is the moment of silence, and for some, peace, bookended by a siren’s cry and immobilizing pain. The moments before and after death are the ones that count – the ones that follow everyone touched by its inevitability until they can experience it themselves. There’s a reason why humans are so profoundly affected by the death of another, and it’s found within the fabric of mortality. Even if they’ve not yet been wrapped within death’s embrace, they shaken her hand, they’ve brushed elbows, they’ve exchanged passing glances. Death does not discriminate, nor is she a benefactor of humankind. When a human dies, there are infinite realms to which their souls will travel – and death will grant them safe passage to their heaven or to hell – apologizing to the unlucky few who had no choice in the matter. 

Nicole knew her fate beyond death, and she was determined to make the precious moments before her death as easy as possible for her Waverly. Her Waverly. Waverly Earp, who belonged to no man or woman, but still gave herself completely to those she loved. Waverly Earp, whose arms were wrapped around the shaking body of the wounded deputy. Nicole could feel Waverly’s tears crashing down on her own cheeks as the brunette hovered over her, pulling her fading girlfriend closer to her. Nicole closed her eyes, the fluorescent lights suddenly too harsh for her overwhelmed senses. 

“Wynonna do something!” Waverly sobbed, reaching out to her sister with bloodstained hands. 

The heavy soles of Wynonna’s combat boots shook the linoleum beneath Nicole’s body, and she opened her eyes to meet the Heir’s gaze. Garnering the strength she had left, Nicole shook her head and defied Waverly’s pleas for help. 

“N-no. Earp. Go. Stop your dickhead sister, stop them.” Nicole could feel Waverly’s gentle hands moving frantically along her abdomen, tearing at the fabric of her shirt and finally, the bulletproof vest that had failed to perform. “Listen to me, Wynonna. It’s okay. End it.” 

Wynonna nodded and knelt on the ground, kissing Waverly’s temple before bounding out of the building to pursue Willa. Waverly had no time to protest. 

“Why would you do that?” Waverly choked. “We just got started!” 

The lump that had built up in the back of Nicole’s throat had moved to the back of her tongue, and she couldn’t stop herself from gagging as the sobs broke loose. Blood trickled down the corner of her mouth, racing the tears that had already begun spilling out from behind her eyes. 

“I know baby,” her voice cracked with fear. “It’s okay, Waves. I’ll be okay,” she forced herself to regain some semblance of composure. Nicole knew this was a lie, but couldn’t let herself break Waverly’s heart twice in one night. 

“No. Please. You can’t do this.” 

Nicole contracted her abdomen as she attempted to sit up, causing a spurt of blood to erupt from the gunshot wound. She could feel the dampness beneath her vest, grateful that Waverly couldn’t see the full extent of her injuries beneath the uniform. Waverly leaned down, pressing her forehead against Nicole’s. The youngest Earp shivered at the chill that had already overtaken Nicole’s body. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” And she was. More sorry than she’d ever been in her entire life, and more sorry than she ever would be again. 

“Nicole, stop. We can still get you help, okay? You can’t go!” 

“Waverly, I need you to know. I love you.” I’m sorry for everything that comes next. 

Waverly heaved, her foundation crumbling at Nicole’s declaration and shook her head in desperate denial. “No, we aren’t going to do this. You’re going to be okay.” 

Nicole knew what was coming, and she knew that Waverly wouldn’t, or couldn’t, let herself say the words. And that was okay. It had to be okay. Instead, she brought a hand to the corner of her mouth and wiped away the blood that had begun to coagulate, staining the sleeves of her uniform for the last time. Her eyes searched Waverly’s own glassy hues, and the youngest Earp closed the distance between them – kissing Nicole with every ounce of life she had in her, hoping that somehow it would allow them to trade places. 

It didn’t…but it was enough for Nicole. It was a goodbye. 

The redhead finally broke the kiss, unable to breathe, and began coughing uncontrollably, blood pooling around her. Her body spasmed with enough force to break Waverly’s embrace. Nicole’s head fell into Waverly’s lap, their hands instead searching for one another. 

Nicole looked up one last time and managed to smile, genuine and true. 

“Be good for me, Waves.” 

Waverly nodded and trembled. “Stay good for me.” 

“Always.” 

*****

The elasticity of time was a concept Xavier Dolls had found himself pontificating more than he’d like to admit. The way a year could feel like ten, the way a minute could feel like ten-thousand. In a year’s time, Xavier Dolls had stood by the Earp women as they dropped rose petals on the oak casket of Deputy Nicole Haught.

 An entire year that felt like a lifetime. As the Earth made its sole journey around the Sun, he had seen tears flow like a raging river. He had seen demons make their peace while their mercenary swallowed more regret than he’d ever be able to chew. 

He thought he’d seen all that a year could throw at him – until he saw Wynonna Earp’s body laying on the frozen dirt with soot stained cheeks and a stopped heart. 

It only took ten seconds to revive her, to summon her back to the brink of consciousness. The Earp heir had died; though not for long.

And she didn’t come back alone. 

*****

“God damn pot holes!” 

Sheriff Randy Nedley threw his half-eaten bear claw onto the passenger’s seat of his patrol car, thighs burning from the scorching kiss of fresh, albeit spilled coffee. He hastily turned the wheel and slammed on the brakes, forcing the car to a sliding halt. He smacked the overhead-cabin lights on with his palm and scrambled for a napkin to wipe himself up with. As he searched, he made a mental note to send a memo to Purgatory Road Commission about how much coffee their negligence had cost him in the past week alone. He could have sworn he sent them an email about fixing the potholes on Rocky Point Road over a month ago. 

Though it was well after 10 o’clock at night, the night’s previous snowfall still blanketed the ground, making the starless night sky look a little less abysmal. 

“I found you, ya bastard,” he gleefully mumbled to himself – reveling in the solitude that permitted his private profanity. The lawman took the newly uncovered fistful of napkins and haphazardly wiped the stained fabric of his khakis. Nedley felt his heart break for just a moment. The pain burrowed deep in his chest. He knew it wasn’t his angina. Haught had always complained about the classic trouser, insisting that the fabric stained too easily and clung too awkwardly. Maybe she had been right. Maybe it was time for a change. 

He closed his eyes and hung his head low for a moment in nameless meditation. He had always worked hard to maintain boundaries with his deputies, but Haught had gotten under his skin with the help of her tenacity and large, orange cat. God, he loved that cat.

Nedley opened his eyes at the thought of Calamity Jane – he was late to feeding her dinner. In Haught’s absence, he had adopted the little lioness. 

Nedley transitioned the car back into motion and pushed onward through the night. As he crept closer to the edge of town, where his quiet little home with a view of the Rockies was placed, the already scarce lights began to fade away. Guided only by his headlights, Nedley spotted something moving roadside. 

“What the – “, he pulled onto the side of the road and switched on his high beams. There was a body. 

Instinctively feeling for his gun, Nedley gripped the handle, ready to draw at any moment. In a town like Purgatory, even road kill didn’t stay dead for long. He stepped out of his patrol car and slowly walked towards the body. 

“Excuse me, are you alright? Can you hear me?” 

The closer he got to the body, the more observations he could make. 

Female. Caucasian. Above average height.  Early to mid-twenties. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was…

“Haught.” 

Nedley fell to his knees and traversed the remaining ground between them from a crawl. 

“Nicole, is that you?” 

It wasn’t long before two crimson-colored eyes were staring at him. He scrambled backwards, startled but certain. He raised his hand up to his radio without breaking the dumbfounded stare he had cast in the wounded young woman’s direction.  

“Earp, get to the station now. There’s something you need to see.” 

[evodex]

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran

DREAM #2

The setup: There is an opulent set inside a recording studio. Vividly coloured plush couches and sofas are placed across the floor which complemented the weird graphic art and mood lighting all around. The shoot is about to begin and the production crew scurries across the floor, making last-minute adjustments. The host, a celebrated producer-director and third-generation Bollywood royalty, Ms. Kiran, walks in. She takes her seat on the awkwardly constructed sofa and welcomes the guest, who is, of course, none other than my weighing scale.

Roll, camera, action!

Ms. Kiran: Hello and welcome to yet another exciting episode of Koffee with Kiran. Our guest tonight is a significant gadget, which has numerous amusing stories to tell about its user, Mrs. Google. So, let’s welcome and hear it from the Weighing Scale!

Weighing Scale: Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to be here.

Ms. Kiran: Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself and your user Mrs. Google.

Weighing Scale: Well, as you have already introduced me, I am Mrs. Google’s weighing scale. I have been with her for almost six years now. There is a ritual that the two of us follow every time we are together. She gingerly steps on me, always standing on the tip of her toes. Then she closes her eyes and gives out a low sigh before peering down at my screen. This is usually followed by a disappointed shriek. She then tries to draw her breath and tummy in, before glancing at the numbers again. Obviously, the readings do not change and she instantly gets off the scale, like a crisp golden bread slice popping out of a toaster.

I always wonder about these four things:

Why tiptoe on the scale? Does she think that standing on her toes instead of placing the entire feet on the scale would make her weigh any lesser?

What’s with the astonished shriek? Does Mrs. Google expect to be 20 pounds lighter every time she stands on me? Like, magically?

Then, ‘inhaling deeply and tucking in of her tummy’ part. How is that ever going to bring down the numbers on scale? If anything, she’s only drawing in more air.

Also, what’s the hurry to get off from me? Will the pounds keep adding like the autorickshaw meter if she stands on me for 30 more seconds?

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm. So clearly, there are some issues here. Tell me, how often does she use you?

Weighing Scale: At least six times a day—with and without clothes, before and after meals, before going to bed, immediately after waking up, ahead of her morning walk and also after the leisurely stroll post dinner.

Ms. Kiran: Okay, let me just set the record straight. Is she…errr…fat?

Weighing Scale: Well, I’ll just say that based on her age, height and body type, she should ideally weigh somewhere between 58 and 62 kilograms. But she leans towards the heavier side. She is 36-24-36 + GST (linked to Aadhar). Now you can do the math yourself as I am ethically bound not to reveal the real numbers.

But Kiran, let me tell you and everyone else watching this show that Mrs. Google is not fat! She is just overweight. And there is a huge, huge difference between being fat and being overweight, especially for women.

Ms. Kiran: I agree. Weight is as sensitive an issue for women as age is, perhaps more so when it is slightly on the higher side. If it is impolite to ask a lady’s age, it is worse to peep into the weighing scale when she’s on it.

Backstage you were telling me how Mrs. Google tried to lose weigh, and there are some hilarious stories you have about that stint, right? So, tell us about her journey from fit to fat and then trying to be fit again.

Weighing Scale: Kiran, a few years back, Mrs. Google was much thinner. Well, maybe that’s a wrong choice of words. Let me rephrase, a few years ago, Mrs. Google was less overweight.

She used to comfortably wear size 10 and size 12 in some brands. Then things started to change. Currently, 80 per cent of her old clothes do not fit her anymore and this hasn’t changed in the last one year. Yet she clings on to them, hoping to fit into them once again. Someday.

Gradually, things started trending from bad to worse. Buttons started to pop out and large gaping areas were formed in her shirts, showing off what should be hidden. Zips refused to close till the end. And whatever she wore defined every curve, crevice and fold of her body. She progressively inflated from every corner, angle and side—a 360-degrees all-round expansion. It was hard on both of us.

Ms. Kiran: Oh poor Mrs. Google and poor you too. Then what happened? Did she do anything about it?

Weighing Scale: Yes, of course she did! So, one day, looking at herself in the full-length mirror, Mrs. Google swore aloud, “Enough is enough! This cannot be happening. I ought to get back into shape.” Immediately, she called her closest buddy, Ms. Kukki, who also suffers from this unfortunate affliction. Both of them decided to meet and discuss the way forward.

Ms. Kiran: Oh goodie! A little teamwork always helps. I’m sure they must have found a way to tackle the issue together.

Weighing Scale: Hah! You must listen to what they did. And don’t ask me how I got all the sordid details. I have my sources inside the house.

So, Ms Kukki arrived in that evening and they hugged and air-kissed like besties. While doing so, both women tried to gauge whose girth was wider. Once they settled down, Mrs. Google ordered the house help to make some adrak–wali chai and pyaaz-aloo bhajiyas as it was raining heavily. Lovely weather like this calls for a little celebration, she reasoned. She also instructed her help to bring along the butter-choco-walnut pound cake that her sister-in-law had brought from Dubai last week.

And it was over tea, bhajiya, cake and namkeen that the ladies discussed their woes and swore to take up an exercise routine ASAP. They chalked out a plan too, starting with brisk walking for 45 minutes and then gradually moving towards the gym, later in the week.

Ms. Kiran: Nice. Things are getting interesting. Then what happened?

Weighing Scale: As she visualised her soon-to-be-svelte figure with child-like glee, Mrs. Google was reminded that all her track pants and tees were either two sizes small or out of fashion. She instantly informed Ms. Kukki about the crisis. And within twenty minutes, both ladies were out to buy new workout clothes.

Seeing Mrs. Google’s dedication towards the new regimen, which was reflected in her eagerness to buy new fitness wear and gear, an inspired Ms. Kukki decided to follow suit. How can Mrs. Google shine away in her new, trendy, branded sportswear, while she lagged behind unnoticed in her three-months-old workout clothes?

After one-and-half hours of repeated trying, changing, selecting and discarding loads of ‘dry fit’ technology-enabled fitness wear, they came out of the mall armed with shiny shopping bags containing pairs of slim-fit tights with contrasting and matching dry fit tees, neon coloured sport shoes, two pairs of socks, a water sipper, a post-workout windcheater and a gym bag. Mrs. Google and Ms. Kukki were all set to enter the world of fitness like divas!

On the way back, Mrs. Google even ordered a fitness tracker watch online and downloaded two exercise tracking apps on the phone to keep track of her fitness regimen.

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I can’t wait to hear what happened next. Carry on…

Weighing Scale: Kiran sweetie, now I will give you a detailed day-to-day account of how both ladies took on their workout regime. You better sit tight and listen up.

Day 1, 7.00 am: They met at a common point between their houses, all decked up in the shiny new gear. With sweat bands on, a hint of lip gloss for a fresh look and shoes laced up, both started walking briskly and chit-chatted all along. Due to the constant babble and energetic pace, they began to pant within 10 minutes. So, they slowed down to a dawdling stroll and completed the proposed 45 minutes.

Day 2, 7.00 am: The first day had been a great success for them as they managed to complete their walk, irrespective of the speed at which they finished it. Hi-fives were exchanged and the women patted each other’s back. Motivated, they began day two, again with quick steps and relentless chit-chat. But soon the pace decelerated and within 500 metres, they were breathless. Meanwhile, they crossed a spot where office goers stopped by to have their chai-sutta-nashta. The whiff of freshly made kachori and vada sambhar made the women go week on their knees. Mrs. Google looked at Ms. Kooki and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Ms. Kooki gestured her affirmation with a meaningful smile. Within five minutes, they were seated on the plastic stools outside the tapree, gorging on hot kachoris and sipping steaming adrak-wali chai.

Day 3, 7.00 am: Two days down, they felt exhilarated. After all, they had succeeded in keeping up with the schedule. But already a little bored of simply walking, they decided to enter their society’s gym. Inside, they met several acquaintances and neighbours. The first 10 minutes were spent in casual catching up. The ladies made sure to ignore Mrs. Rana, who ate like a horse in all the kitty parties but God knows how still managed to look like a French bean. She was the obvious object of their scorn.

After socialising for a while and fixing their hair in the mirrors mounted on the gym walls for a different purpose altogether, the ladies finally managed to drag themselves towards the cardio machines.

Speed: 4

Elevation: Flat

All through the ten minutes of their ‘light’ cardio, they kept cribbing about the bland song choice and the ineffective air-conditioning in the gym.

Calories burned – 38

Finishing their cardio, they sat down huffing and puffing. The gym instructor, a tall, handsome hunk, came over and asked them if they needed any help or if they would like to do some stretching.

Dumbstruck by his hotness and abs which were clearly visible through his tight vest, they couldn’t say ‘no’, even though their legs were wobbly and begged for mercy. Mr. Instructor demonstrated a few basic stretching exercises and flaunted his own muscles. Trying their best to imitate his immaculate moves, they kept falling in exhaustion and clumsiness. After four whole minutes of awkward stretching, the sweaty ladies found that the instructor was busy with other more dedicated disciples. Making the most of this opportunity, they bolted for the door.

Day 4, 7.00 am: By now, each and every muscle of their body, not in the habit of stretching or working out, were sore and hurting. The duo decided to keep it ‘light’ and stick to plain walking. Walk to the tempting tapri. Gorge. And walk back.

Distance covered – 2 km

Calories burned – 70

Calories eaten – 250

Day 5, 7.00 am: Repeat performance of Day 4.

Day 6, 6.30 am: As expected, their schedule didn’t last very long. And so, Ms. Kukki called Mrs. Google to inform that she wouldn’t be able to make it that day as it was a weekend and she wanted to sleep till little late. Obviously, Mrs. Google was more than happy to agree. She too receded under the covers and went back to her sweet slumber.

I knew from the very beginning that this wouldn’t last long, monotony would kill it and exercising incessantly would die a natural death.

Day 7: Nobody called anybody. And, as they say, sometimes no news is good news. The unannounced verdict found mutual consent.

The entire exercising routine was soon forgotten as Mrs. Google & Ms. Kukki chose painless mornings over demanding fitness. The whole ‘silly’ idea was thrown out of the window.

Ms. Kiran: Such a sad and tragic ending to a thoroughly amusing story. Did she try other methods of losing weight post this swiftly aborted exercise routine?

Weighing Scale: Well, after coming to terms that exercising was not her cup of tea, she tried her hand at all sorts of diets—starting with a weeklong GM diet, moving on to the low-carb Atkin’s diet, followed by the chhass only diet, then the most obnoxious cabbage soup diet, the much-celebrated vegan diet, keto diet and even two days of the ‘cotton ball diet’, in which she dipped small balls of fluffy cotton into juices and smoothies and ate them up. Sadly, nothing passed the threshold of the experimentation phase of first few days.

Ms. Kiran: ‘Cotton ball diet’? Gosh, now this is incorrigible. So, did she give it all up finally?

Weighing Scale: Well, Mrs. Google has stopped experimenting with all the bizarre diets. Someone recently suggested to her ‘sniff the food’ technique. She is currently trying her luck with that. Less eating and more sniffing. I wonder how that will pan out for her.

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm… let’s see what that results in. Do keep me posted on that.

So, moving on, let’s play our exciting rapid-fire round. I will ask you a few questions and you have to answer them keeping Mrs. Google in mind. But remember, the replies have to be rapid and, of course, fiery!

Ready? So, here we go…what is Mrs. Google’s weight?

Weighing Scale: 62 + 8 – 40 + 50 – 2

Ms. Kiran: Very well. Tell us about her one secret that even Mr. Planet doesn’t know.

Weighing Scale: She secretly eat chocolates and candies. Mrs. Google stashes them at various covert places, like inside the vegetable compartment of fridge, in the lower most section of her cupboard, unused purses, side table of her bed, behind the spice rack and even in the loo.

Ms. Kiran: What does Mr. Planet say when Mrs. Google asks him if she is looking fat in a particular dress?

Weighing Scale: Oh, he has this one absolutely figured out and well-rehearsed. It’s always a big, compelling ‘NO’. The genuinely surprised and ‘are you kidding’ wala expression on his face is priceless.

Ms. Kiran: Has Mrs. Google ever shared her actual weight with anyone? If so, with whom?

Weighing Scale: Yes. To her doctor, dietician, personal trainer, a sales person for health insurance purposes and one more sales guy at a bicycle shop, just so that he could give her the precise recommendations. Also, to a ride operator at an amusement park because the ride had to be correctly balanced. But for rest of the world, including Mr. Planet, it is a dark, well-guarded secret.

Ms. Kiran: Share a recent embarrassing incident of hers.

Weighing Scale: Last week, she met a friend after a long time. After shrieks of excitement and cheek-on-cheek air kissing, her friend stepped back and looking at Mrs. Google’s tummy, exclaimed, “Wow, looks like you have some good news there!”

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I am sure Mrs. Google wanted to strangle her.

Weighing Scale: You bet! Wait, I got one more. A few days back, she had to stand in a queue at the cash counter of a mall for almost half an hour due to some technical snag in the billing system. So, by the time things got working, she was visibly irritated. The woman behind the desk looked at her upset face and said, “I’m really sorry about your wait.” Without thinking much, courtesy to her bad mood, Mrs. Google snapped back, “You’re not so skinny yourself, madam. Mind you own business, please.” The poor girl did not even try to clarify her intent and resumed work but the ladies standing behind Mrs. Google were in splits. That’s when she realised what the girl had truly meant. She made a quick, embarrassed exit.

Ms. Kiran: OMG! That’s indeed funny.

Okay, tell us five things that make Mrs. Google flip out every time someone mentions in front of her.

Weighing Scale: Hmmm… Yoga, plus size clothing, health food, skinny jeans and people linking her allergies, acne and hair fall to her weight.

Ms. Kiran: If she wakes up as Katrina Kaif, she would….

Weighing Scale: If Mrs. Google wakes up as Katrina, she would go to her office and meet the big boss. She’d ask for a favour, which of course he would undoubtedly grant, she being Katrina for that moment. The favour would be double promotion and a separate cabin for a friend of hers, Mrs. Google.

Ms. Kiran: Haha, that would be a smart thing to do. Thanks a lot for being such a sport. You did very well. Our signature gift hamper, loaded with goodies is on the table next to you.

Now, before you leave, would you like to say something to her through our show?

Weighing Scale: I would like to tell Mrs. Google that although you eat less but you eat wrong. Having some extra weight is not that ‘fat’ an issue as you have made it to be. Being healthy and happy is more important than being thin and sad. So just remember, we all love you for the ‘weigh’ you are!

Next morning, while still in bed, I couldn’t stop laughing at last night’s dream. The incidents shared in it were all factual and indeed hilarious. My husband gave me a puzzled look, seeing me wake up in a happy-but-don’t–know-why state. Inching closer to him swapping my stupid grin with a seductive smile, I whispered, “Do you also love me for the ‘weigh’ I am?”

Perplexed by my unexpectedly amorous mood, barely an hour away from office time, he fumbled, “Of course darling, I love you the ‘way’ you are.”

Ah! If only men could ever understand what woman want (and mean).

My Stuff Speaks 

Author – Sania Siddiqui

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran published first on https://bestbabyinc.tumblr.com

[ashafriesen]

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran

DREAM #2

The setup: There is an opulent set inside a recording studio. Vividly coloured plush couches and sofas are placed across the floor, to complement the weird graphic art and mood lighting all around. The shoot is about to begin and the production crew scurries across the floor, making last-minute adjustments. The host, a celebrated producer-director and third-generation Bollywood royalty, Ms. Kiran, walks in. She takes her seat on the awkwardly constructed sofa and welcomes the guest, who is, of course, none other than my weighing scale.

Roll, camera, action!

Ms. Kiran: Hello and welcome to yet another exciting episode of Koffee with Kiran. Our guest tonight is a significant gadget, which has numerous amusing stories to tell about its user, Mrs. Google. So, let’s welcome Weighing Scale!

Weighing Scale: Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to be here.

Ms. Kiran: Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself and your user Mrs. Google?

Weighing Scale: Well, as you have already introduced me, I am Mrs. Google’s weighing scale. I have been with her for almost six years now. There is a ritual that the two of us follow every time we are together. She gingerly steps on me, always standing on the tip of her toes. Then she closes her eyes and gives out a low sigh before peering down at my screen. This is usually followed by a disappointed shriek. She then tries to draw her breath and tummy in, before glancing at the numbers again. Obviously, the readings do not change and she instantly gets off the scale, like a crisp golden bread slice popping out of a toaster.

I always wonder about these four things:

Why tiptoe on the scale? Does she think that standing on her toes instead of placing the entire feet on the scale would make her weigh any lesser?

What’s with the astonished shriek? Does Mrs. Google expect to be 20 pounds lighter every time she stands on me? Magically?

Then ‘inhaling deeply and tucking in of her tummy’ part! How is that ever going to bring down the numbers on scale? If anything, she’s only drawing in more air.

Also, what’s the hurry to get off from me? Will the pounds keep adding like the autorickshaw meter if she stands on me for 30 more seconds?

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm. So clearly, there are some issues here. Tell me, how often does she use you?

Weighing Scale: At least six times a day—with and without clothes, before and after meals, before going to bed, immediately after waking up, ahead of her morning walk and also after the leisurely stroll post dinner.

Ms. Kiran: Okay, let me just set the record straight. Is she…errr…fat?

Weighing Scale: Well, I’ll just say that based on her age, height and body type, she should ideally weigh somewhere between 58 and 62 kilograms. But she leans towards the heavier side. She is 36-24-36 + GST (linked to Aadhaar). Now you can do the math yourself as I am ethically bound not to reveal that.

But Kiran, let me tell you and everyone else who’s watching this, that Mrs. Google is not fat! She is just overweight. And there is a huge, huge difference between being fat and being overweight, especially for women.

Ms. Kiran: I agree. Weight is as sensitive an issue for women as age is, perhaps more so when it is slightly on the higher side. If it is impolite to ask a lady’s age, it is worse to peep into the weighing scale when she’s on it.

Well, you were telling me how Mrs. Google tried to lose weight, and there are some hilarious stories you have about that stint, right? So, tell us about her journey from fit to fat and then trying to be fit again.

Weighing Scale: Kiran, a few years back, Mrs. Google was much thinner. Well, maybe that’s a wrong choice of words. Let me rephrase, a few years ago, Mrs. Google was less overweight.

She used to comfortably wear size 10 and size 12 in some brands. Then things started to change. Currently, 80 per cent of her old clothes do not fit her anymore and this hasn’t changed in the last one year. Yet she clings on to them, hoping to fit into them once again. Someday.

Gradually, things started trending from bad to worse. Buttons started to pop out and large gaping areas were formed in her shirts, showing off what should be hidden. Zips refused to close till the end. And whatever she wore defined every curve, crevice and fold of her body.

She progressively inflated from every corner, angle and side—a 360-degrees all-round expansion. It was hard on both of us.

Ms. Kiran: Oh poor Mrs. Google and poor you too. Then what happened? Did she do anything about it?

Weighing Scale: Yes! So, one day, looking at herself in the full-length mirror, Mrs. Google swore aloud, “Enough is enough! This cannot be happening. I ought to get back into shape.” Immediately, she called her closest buddy, Ms. Kukki, who also suffers from this unfortunate affliction. Both of them decided to meet and discuss the way forward.

Ms. Kiran: Oh goodie! A little teamwork always helps. I’m sure they must have found a way to tackle the issue together.

Weighing Scale: Hah! You must listen to what they did. And don’t ask me how I got all the sordid details. I have my sources inside the house.

So, Ms Kukki arrived in that evening and they hugged and air-kissed like besties. While doing so, both women tried to gauge whose girth was wider. Once they settled down, Mrs. Google ordered the house help to make some adrak–wali chai and pyaaz-aloo bhajiyas as it was raining heavily. Lovely weather like this calls for a little celebration, she reasoned. She also instructed her help to bring along the butter-choco-walnut pound cake that her sister-in-law had brought from Dubai last week.

And it was over tea, bhajiya, cake and namkeen that the ladies discussed their woes and swore to take up an exercise routine ASAP. They chalked out a plan too, starting with brisk walking for 45 minutes and then gradually moving towards the gym, later in the week.

Ms. Kiran: Nice. Things are getting interesting. Then what happened?

Weighing Scale: As she visualised her soon-to-be-svelte figure with child-like glee, Mrs. Google was reminded that all her track pants and tees were either two sizes small or out of fashion. She instantly informed Ms. Kukki about the crisis. And within twenty minutes, both ladies were out to buy new workout clothes.

Seeing Mrs. Google’s dedication towards the new regimen, which was reflected in her eagerness to buy new fitness wear, an inspired Ms. Kukki decided to follow suit. After all, how can Mrs. Google shine away in her new, trendy, branded sportswear, while she lagged behind unnoticed in her three-months-old workout clothes?

After one-and-half hours of repeated trying, changing, selecting and discarding loads of ‘dry fit’ technology-enabled fitness wear, they came out of the mall armed with shiny shopping bags containing two pairs of slim-fit tights with contrasting and matching dry fit tees, neon coloured sport shoes, two pairs of socks, a water sipper, a post-workout windcheater and a gym bag. Mrs. Google and Ms. Kukki were all set to enter the world of fitness like divas!

On the way back, Mrs. Google even ordered a fitness tracker watch online and downloaded two exercise tracking apps on the phone to keep track of her fitness regimen.

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I can’t wait to hear what happened next. Carry on…

Weighing Scale: Kiran sweetie, now I will give you a detailed day-to-day account of how both ladies took on their workout regime. You better sit tight and listen up.

Day 1, 7.00 am: They met at a common point between their houses, all decked up in the shiny new gear. With sweat bands on, a hint of lip gloss for a fresh look and shoes laced up, both started walking briskly and chit-chatted all along. Due to the constant babble and energetic pace, they began to pant within 10 minutes. So, they slowed down to a dawdling stroll and completed the proposed 45 minutes.

Day 2, 7.00 am: The first day had been a great success for them as they managed to complete their walk, irrespective of the speed at which they finished it. Hi-fives were exchanged, and the women patted each other’s back. Motivated, they began day two, again with quick steps and relentless chit-chat. But soon the pace decelerated and, within 500 metres, they were breathless. Meanwhile, they crossed a spot where office goers stopped by to have their chai-sutta-nashta. The whiff of freshly made kachori and vada sambhar made the women go week on their knees. Mrs. Google looked at Ms. Kooki and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Ms. Kooki gestured her affirmation with a meaningful smile. Within five minutes, they were seated on the plastic stools outside the tapree, gorging on hot kachoris and sipping steaming adrak-wali chai.

Day 3, 7.00 am: Two days down, they were exhilarated. After all, they had succeeded in keeping up with the schedule. But already a little bored of simply walking, they decided to enter the society’s gym. Inside, they met several acquaintances and neighbours. The first 10 minutes were spent in casual catching up. However, the ladies made sure to ignore Mrs. Rana, who ate like a horse in all the kitty parties but still managed to look like a French bean (God knows how!). She was the obvious object of their scorn.

After socialising for a while and fixing their hair in the full-length mirrors mounted on the gym walls for a different purpose altogether, the ladies finally managed to drag themselves towards the cardio machines.

Speed: 4

Elevation: Flat

All through the ten minutes of their ‘light’ cardio, they kept cribbing about the bland song choice and the ineffective air-conditioning in the gym.

Calories burned – 38

Finishing their cardio, they sat down huffing and puffing. The gym instructor, a tall, handsome hunk, came over and asked them if they needed any help or if they would like to do some stretching.

Dumbstruck by his hotness and sets of packs that were clearly visible through his tight vest, they couldn’t say ‘no’, even though their legs were wobbly and begged for mercy. Mr. Instructor demonstrated a few basic stretching exercises and flaunted his own muscles. Trying their best to imitate his immaculate moves, they kept falling over in exhaustion and clumsiness. After four whole minutes of awkward stretching, the sweaty ladies found that the instructor was busy with other more dedicated disciples. Making the most of this opportunity, they bolted for the door.

Day 4, 7.00 am: By now, all the muscles of their body, not in the habit of stretching or working out, were sore and hurting. The duo decided to keep it ‘light’ and stick to plain walking. Walk to the tempting tapri. Gorge. And walk back.

Distance covered – 2 km

Calories burned – 70

Calories eaten – 250

Day 5, 7.00 am: Repeat performance of Day 4

Day 6, 6.30 am: As expected, their schedule didn’t last very long. And so, Ms. Kukki called Mrs. Google to inform that she wouldn’t be able to make it that day as it was a weekend and she wanted to sleep till little late. Obviously, Mrs. Google was more than happy to agree. She too receded under the covers and went back to her sweet slumber.

I knew from the very beginning that this wouldn’t last long, monotony would kill it and exercising incessantly would die a natural death.

Day 7: Nobody called anybody. And, as they say, sometimes no news is good news. The unannounced verdict found mutual consent.

The entire exercising routine was soon forgotten as Mrs. Google & Ms. Kukki chose painless mornings over demanding fitness. The whole ‘silly’ idea was thrown out of the window.

Ms. Kiran: Such a sad and tragic ending to a thoroughly amusing story. Did she try other methods of losing weight post this swiftly aborted exercise routine?

Weighing Scale: Well, after coming to terms that exercising was not her cup of tea, she tried her hand at all sorts of diets—starting with a weeklong GM diet, moving on to the low-carb Atkin’s diet, followed by the chhass only diet, then the most obnoxious cabbage soup diet, the much-celebrated vegan diet, keto diet, and even two days of the ‘cotton ball diet’, in which she dipped small balls of fluffy cotton into juices and smoothies and ate them up. Sadly, nothing passed the threshold of the experimentation phase of first few days.

Ms. Kiran: ‘Cotton ball diet’? Gosh, now this is incorrigible. So, did she give it all up finally?

Weighing Scale: Well, Mrs. Google has stopped experimenting with all the bizarre diets. Someone recently suggested to her ‘sniff the food’ technique. She is currently trying her luck with that. Less eating and more sniffing. I wonder how that will pan out for her.

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm… let’s see what that results in. Do keep me posted on that.

So, moving on, let’s play our exciting rapid-fire round. I will ask you a few questions and you have to answer them keeping Mrs. Google in mind. But remember, the replies have to be rapid and, of course, fiery!

Ready? So, here we go…what is Mrs. Google’s weight?

Weighing Scale: 62 + 8 – 40 + 50 – 2

Ms. Kiran: Very well. Tell us about her one secret that even Mr. Planet doesn’t know.

Weighing Scale: She secretly eat chocolates and candies. Mrs. Google stashes them at various covert places, like inside the vegetable compartment of fridge, in the lower most section of her cupboard, unused purses, side table of her bed, behind the spice rack and even in the loo.

Ms. Kiran: What does Mr. Planet say when Mrs. Google asks him if she is looking fat in a particular dress?

Weighing Scale: Oh, he has this one absolutely figured out and well-rehearsed. It’s always a big, compelling ‘NO’. The genuinely surprised and ‘are you kidding’ wala expression on his face is priceless.

Ms. Kiran: Has Mrs. Google ever shared her actual weight with anyone? If so, with whom?

Weighing Scale: Yes. To her doctor, dietician, personal trainer, a sales person for health insurance purposes, and one more sales guy at a bicycle shop, just so that he could give her the precise recommendations. Also, to a ride operator at an amusement park because the ride had to be correctly balanced. But for rest of the world, including Mr. Planet, it is a dark, well-guarded secret.

Ms. Kiran: Share a recent embarrassing incident of hers.

Weighing Scale: Last week, she met a friend after a long time. After shrieks of excitement and cheek-on-cheek air kissing, her friend stepped back and looking at Mrs. Google’s tummy, exclaimed, “Wow, looks like you have some good news there!”

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I am sure Mrs. Google wanted to strangle her.

Weighing Scale: You bet! Wait, I got one more. A few days back, she had to stand in a queue at the cash counter of a mall for almost half an hour due to some technical snag in the billing system. So, by the time things got working, she was visibly irritated. The woman behind the desk looked at her upset face and said, “I’m really sorry about your wait.” Without thinking much, courtesy to her bad mood, Mrs. Google snapped back, “You’re not so skinny yourself, madam. Mind you own business, please.” The poor girl did not even try to clarify her intent and resumed work but the ladies standing behind Mrs. Google were in splits. That’s when she realised what the girl had truly meant. She made a quick, embarrassed exit.

Ms. Kiran: OMG! That’s indeed funny.

Okay, tell us five things that make Mrs. Google flip out every time someone mentions in front of her.

Weighing Scale: Hmmm… Yoga, plus size clothing, health food, skinny jeans and people linking her allergies, acne and hair fall to her weight.

Ms. Kiran: If she wakes up as Katrina Kaif, she would….

Weighing Scale: If Mrs. Google wakes up as Katrina, she would go to her office and meet the big boss. She’d ask for a favour, which of course he would undoubtedly grant, she being Katrina for that moment. The favour would be double promotion and a separate cabin for a friend of hers, Mrs. Google.

Ms. Kiran: Haha, that would be a smart thing to do. Thanks a lot for being such a sport. You did very well. Our signature gift hamper, loaded with goodies is on the table next to you.

Now, before you leave, would you like to say something to her through our show?

Weighing Scale: I would like to tell Mrs. Google that although you eat less but you eat wrong. Having some extra weight is not that ‘fat’ an issue as you have made it to be. Being healthy and happy is more important than being thin and sad. So just remember, we all love you for the ‘weigh’ you are!

Next morning, while still in bed, I couldn’t stop laughing at last night’s dream. The incidents shared in it were all factual and indeed hilarious. My husband gave me a puzzled look, seeing me wake up in a happy-but-don’t–know-why state. Inching closer to him swapping my stupid grin with a seductive smile, I whispered, “Do you also love me for the ‘weigh’ I am?”

Perplexed by my unexpectedly amorous mood, barely an hour away from office time, he fumbled, “Of course darling, I love you the ‘way’ you are.”

Ah! If only men could ever understand what woman want (and mean).

My Stuff Speaks 

Author – Sania Siddiqui

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran published first on https://parentcenternetwork.tumblr.com/

[evodex]

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran

DREAM #2

The setup: There is an opulent set inside a recording studio. Vividly coloured plush couches and sofas are placed across the floor which complemented the weird graphic art and mood lighting all around. The shoot is about to begin and the production crew scurries across the floor, making last-minute adjustments. The host, a celebrated producer-director and third-generation Bollywood royalty, Ms. Kiran, walks in. She takes her seat on the awkwardly constructed sofa and welcomes the guest, who is, of course, none other than my weighing scale.

Roll, camera, action!

Ms. Kiran: Hello and welcome to yet another exciting episode of Koffee with Kiran. Our guest tonight is a significant gadget, which has numerous amusing stories to tell about its user, Mrs. Google. So, let’s welcome and hear it from the Weighing Scale!

Weighing Scale: Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to be here.

Ms. Kiran: Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself and your user Mrs. Google.

Weighing Scale: Well, as you have already introduced me, I am Mrs. Google’s weighing scale. I have been with her for almost six years now. There is a ritual that the two of us follow every time we are together. She gingerly steps on me, always standing on the tip of her toes. Then she closes her eyes and gives out a low sigh before peering down at my screen. This is usually followed by a disappointed shriek. She then tries to draw her breath and tummy in, before glancing at the numbers again. Obviously, the readings do not change and she instantly gets off the scale, like a crisp golden bread slice popping out of a toaster.

I always wonder about these four things:

Why tiptoe on the scale? Does she think that standing on her toes instead of placing the entire feet on the scale would make her weigh any lesser?

What’s with the astonished shriek? Does Mrs. Google expect to be 20 pounds lighter every time she stands on me? Like, magically?

Then, ‘inhaling deeply and tucking in of her tummy’ part. How is that ever going to bring down the numbers on scale? If anything, she’s only drawing in more air.

Also, what’s the hurry to get off from me? Will the pounds keep adding like the autorickshaw meter if she stands on me for 30 more seconds?

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm. So clearly, there are some issues here. Tell me, how often does she use you?

Weighing Scale: At least six times a day—with and without clothes, before and after meals, before going to bed, immediately after waking up, ahead of her morning walk and also after the leisurely stroll post dinner.

Ms. Kiran: Okay, let me just set the record straight. Is she…errr…fat?

Weighing Scale: Well, I’ll just say that based on her age, height and body type, she should ideally weigh somewhere between 58 and 62 kilograms. But she leans towards the heavier side. She is 36-24-36 + GST (linked to Aadhar). Now you can do the math yourself as I am ethically bound not to reveal the real numbers.

But Kiran, let me tell you and everyone else watching this show that Mrs. Google is not fat! She is just overweight. And there is a huge, huge difference between being fat and being overweight, especially for women.

Ms. Kiran: I agree. Weight is as sensitive an issue for women as age is, perhaps more so when it is slightly on the higher side. If it is impolite to ask a lady’s age, it is worse to peep into the weighing scale when she’s on it.

Backstage you were telling me how Mrs. Google tried to lose weigh, and there are some hilarious stories you have about that stint, right? So, tell us about her journey from fit to fat and then trying to be fit again.

Weighing Scale: Kiran, a few years back, Mrs. Google was much thinner. Well, maybe that’s a wrong choice of words. Let me rephrase, a few years ago, Mrs. Google was less overweight.

She used to comfortably wear size 10 and size 12 in some brands. Then things started to change. Currently, 80 per cent of her old clothes do not fit her anymore and this hasn’t changed in the last one year. Yet she clings on to them, hoping to fit into them once again. Someday.

Gradually, things started trending from bad to worse. Buttons started to pop out and large gaping areas were formed in her shirts, showing off what should be hidden. Zips refused to close till the end. And whatever she wore defined every curve, crevice and fold of her body. She progressively inflated from every corner, angle and side—a 360-degrees all-round expansion. It was hard on both of us.

Ms. Kiran: Oh poor Mrs. Google and poor you too. Then what happened? Did she do anything about it?

Weighing Scale: Yes, of course she did! So, one day, looking at herself in the full-length mirror, Mrs. Google swore aloud, “Enough is enough! This cannot be happening. I ought to get back into shape.” Immediately, she called her closest buddy, Ms. Kukki, who also suffers from this unfortunate affliction. Both of them decided to meet and discuss the way forward.

Ms. Kiran: Oh goodie! A little teamwork always helps. I’m sure they must have found a way to tackle the issue together.

Weighing Scale: Hah! You must listen to what they did. And don’t ask me how I got all the sordid details. I have my sources inside the house.

So, Ms Kukki arrived in that evening and they hugged and air-kissed like besties. While doing so, both women tried to gauge whose girth was wider. Once they settled down, Mrs. Google ordered the house help to make some adrak–wali chai and pyaaz-aloo bhajiyas as it was raining heavily. Lovely weather like this calls for a little celebration, she reasoned. She also instructed her help to bring along the butter-choco-walnut pound cake that her sister-in-law had brought from Dubai last week.

And it was over tea, bhajiya, cake and namkeen that the ladies discussed their woes and swore to take up an exercise routine ASAP. They chalked out a plan too, starting with brisk walking for 45 minutes and then gradually moving towards the gym, later in the week.

Ms. Kiran: Nice. Things are getting interesting. Then what happened?

Weighing Scale: As she visualised her soon-to-be-svelte figure with child-like glee, Mrs. Google was reminded that all her track pants and tees were either two sizes small or out of fashion. She instantly informed Ms. Kukki about the crisis. And within twenty minutes, both ladies were out to buy new workout clothes.

Seeing Mrs. Google’s dedication towards the new regimen, which was reflected in her eagerness to buy new fitness wear and gear, an inspired Ms. Kukki decided to follow suit. How can Mrs. Google shine away in her new, trendy, branded sportswear, while she lagged behind unnoticed in her three-months-old workout clothes?

After one-and-half hours of repeated trying, changing, selecting and discarding loads of ‘dry fit’ technology-enabled fitness wear, they came out of the mall armed with shiny shopping bags containing pairs of slim-fit tights with contrasting and matching dry fit tees, neon coloured sport shoes, two pairs of socks, a water sipper, a post-workout windcheater and a gym bag. Mrs. Google and Ms. Kukki were all set to enter the world of fitness like divas!

On the way back, Mrs. Google even ordered a fitness tracker watch online and downloaded two exercise tracking apps on the phone to keep track of her fitness regimen.

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I can’t wait to hear what happened next. Carry on…

Weighing Scale: Kiran sweetie, now I will give you a detailed day-to-day account of how both ladies took on their workout regime. You better sit tight and listen up.

Day 1, 7.00 am: They met at a common point between their houses, all decked up in the shiny new gear. With sweat bands on, a hint of lip gloss for a fresh look and shoes laced up, both started walking briskly and chit-chatted all along. Due to the constant babble and energetic pace, they began to pant within 10 minutes. So, they slowed down to a dawdling stroll and completed the proposed 45 minutes.

Day 2, 7.00 am: The first day had been a great success for them as they managed to complete their walk, irrespective of the speed at which they finished it. Hi-fives were exchanged and the women patted each other’s back. Motivated, they began day two, again with quick steps and relentless chit-chat. But soon the pace decelerated and within 500 metres, they were breathless. Meanwhile, they crossed a spot where office goers stopped by to have their chai-sutta-nashta. The whiff of freshly made kachori and vada sambhar made the women go week on their knees. Mrs. Google looked at Ms. Kooki and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Ms. Kooki gestured her affirmation with a meaningful smile. Within five minutes, they were seated on the plastic stools outside the tapree, gorging on hot kachoris and sipping steaming adrak-wali chai.

Day 3, 7.00 am: Two days down, they felt exhilarated. After all, they had succeeded in keeping up with the schedule. But already a little bored of simply walking, they decided to enter their society’s gym. Inside, they met several acquaintances and neighbours. The first 10 minutes were spent in casual catching up. The ladies made sure to ignore Mrs. Rana, who ate like a horse in all the kitty parties but God knows how still managed to look like a French bean. She was the obvious object of their scorn.

After socialising for a while and fixing their hair in the mirrors mounted on the gym walls for a different purpose altogether, the ladies finally managed to drag themselves towards the cardio machines.

Speed: 4

Elevation: Flat

All through the ten minutes of their ‘light’ cardio, they kept cribbing about the bland song choice and the ineffective air-conditioning in the gym.

Calories burned – 38

Finishing their cardio, they sat down huffing and puffing. The gym instructor, a tall, handsome hunk, came over and asked them if they needed any help or if they would like to do some stretching.

Dumbstruck by his hotness and abs which were clearly visible through his tight vest, they couldn’t say ‘no’, even though their legs were wobbly and begged for mercy. Mr. Instructor demonstrated a few basic stretching exercises and flaunted his own muscles. Trying their best to imitate his immaculate moves, they kept falling in exhaustion and clumsiness. After four whole minutes of awkward stretching, the sweaty ladies found that the instructor was busy with other more dedicated disciples. Making the most of this opportunity, they bolted for the door.

Day 4, 7.00 am: By now, each and every muscle of their body, not in the habit of stretching or working out, were sore and hurting. The duo decided to keep it ‘light’ and stick to plain walking. Walk to the tempting tapri. Gorge. And walk back.

Distance covered – 2 km

Calories burned – 70

Calories eaten – 250

Day 5, 7.00 am: Repeat performance of Day 4.

Day 6, 6.30 am: As expected, their schedule didn’t last very long. And so, Ms. Kukki called Mrs. Google to inform that she wouldn’t be able to make it that day as it was a weekend and she wanted to sleep till little late. Obviously, Mrs. Google was more than happy to agree. She too receded under the covers and went back to her sweet slumber.

I knew from the very beginning that this wouldn’t last long, monotony would kill it and exercising incessantly would die a natural death.

Day 7: Nobody called anybody. And, as they say, sometimes no news is good news. The unannounced verdict found mutual consent.

The entire exercising routine was soon forgotten as Mrs. Google & Ms. Kukki chose painless mornings over demanding fitness. The whole ‘silly’ idea was thrown out of the window.

Ms. Kiran: Such a sad and tragic ending to a thoroughly amusing story. Did she try other methods of losing weight post this swiftly aborted exercise routine?

Weighing Scale: Well, after coming to terms that exercising was not her cup of tea, she tried her hand at all sorts of diets—starting with a weeklong GM diet, moving on to the low-carb Atkin’s diet, followed by the chhass only diet, then the most obnoxious cabbage soup diet, the much-celebrated vegan diet, keto diet and even two days of the ‘cotton ball diet’, in which she dipped small balls of fluffy cotton into juices and smoothies and ate them up. Sadly, nothing passed the threshold of the experimentation phase of first few days.

Ms. Kiran: ‘Cotton ball diet’? Gosh, now this is incorrigible. So, did she give it all up finally?

Weighing Scale: Well, Mrs. Google has stopped experimenting with all the bizarre diets. Someone recently suggested to her ‘sniff the food’ technique. She is currently trying her luck with that. Less eating and more sniffing. I wonder how that will pan out for her.

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm… let’s see what that results in. Do keep me posted on that.

So, moving on, let’s play our exciting rapid-fire round. I will ask you a few questions and you have to answer them keeping Mrs. Google in mind. But remember, the replies have to be rapid and, of course, fiery!

Ready? So, here we go…what is Mrs. Google’s weight?

Weighing Scale: 62 + 8 – 40 + 50 – 2

Ms. Kiran: Very well. Tell us about her one secret that even Mr. Planet doesn’t know.

Weighing Scale: She secretly eat chocolates and candies. Mrs. Google stashes them at various covert places, like inside the vegetable compartment of fridge, in the lower most section of her cupboard, unused purses, side table of her bed, behind the spice rack and even in the loo.

Ms. Kiran: What does Mr. Planet say when Mrs. Google asks him if she is looking fat in a particular dress?

Weighing Scale: Oh, he has this one absolutely figured out and well-rehearsed. It’s always a big, compelling ‘NO’. The genuinely surprised and ‘are you kidding’ wala expression on his face is priceless.

Ms. Kiran: Has Mrs. Google ever shared her actual weight with anyone? If so, with whom?

Weighing Scale: Yes. To her doctor, dietician, personal trainer, a sales person for health insurance purposes and one more sales guy at a bicycle shop, just so that he could give her the precise recommendations. Also, to a ride operator at an amusement park because the ride had to be correctly balanced. But for rest of the world, including Mr. Planet, it is a dark, well-guarded secret.

Ms. Kiran: Share a recent embarrassing incident of hers.

Weighing Scale: Last week, she met a friend after a long time. After shrieks of excitement and cheek-on-cheek air kissing, her friend stepped back and looking at Mrs. Google’s tummy, exclaimed, “Wow, looks like you have some good news there!”

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I am sure Mrs. Google wanted to strangle her.

Weighing Scale: You bet! Wait, I got one more. A few days back, she had to stand in a queue at the cash counter of a mall for almost half an hour due to some technical snag in the billing system. So, by the time things got working, she was visibly irritated. The woman behind the desk looked at her upset face and said, “I’m really sorry about your wait.” Without thinking much, courtesy to her bad mood, Mrs. Google snapped back, “You’re not so skinny yourself, madam. Mind you own business, please.” The poor girl did not even try to clarify her intent and resumed work but the ladies standing behind Mrs. Google were in splits. That’s when she realised what the girl had truly meant. She made a quick, embarrassed exit.

Ms. Kiran: OMG! That’s indeed funny.

Okay, tell us five things that make Mrs. Google flip out every time someone mentions in front of her.

Weighing Scale: Hmmm… Yoga, plus size clothing, health food, skinny jeans and people linking her allergies, acne and hair fall to her weight.

Ms. Kiran: If she wakes up as Katrina Kaif, she would….

Weighing Scale: If Mrs. Google wakes up as Katrina, she would go to her office and meet the big boss. She’d ask for a favour, which of course he would undoubtedly grant, she being Katrina for that moment. The favour would be double promotion and a separate cabin for a friend of hers, Mrs. Google.

Ms. Kiran: Haha, that would be a smart thing to do. Thanks a lot for being such a sport. You did very well. Our signature gift hamper, loaded with goodies is on the table next to you.

Now, before you leave, would you like to say something to her through our show?

Weighing Scale: I would like to tell Mrs. Google that although you eat less but you eat wrong. Having some extra weight is not that ‘fat’ an issue as you have made it to be. Being healthy and happy is more important than being thin and sad. So just remember, we all love you for the ‘weigh’ you are!

Next morning, while still in bed, I couldn’t stop laughing at last night’s dream. The incidents shared in it were all factual and indeed hilarious. My husband gave me a puzzled look, seeing me wake up in a happy-but-don’t–know-why state. Inching closer to him swapping my stupid grin with a seductive smile, I whispered, “Do you also love me for the ‘weigh’ I am?”

Perplexed by my unexpectedly amorous mood, barely an hour away from office time, he fumbled, “Of course darling, I love you the ‘way’ you are.”

Ah! If only men could ever understand what woman want (and mean).

My Stuff Speaks 

Author – Sania Siddiqui

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran published first on https://bestbabyinc.tumblr.com

[evodex]

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran

DREAM #2

The setup: There is an opulent set inside a recording studio. Vividly coloured plush couches and sofas are placed across the floor which complemented the weird graphic art and mood lighting all around. The shoot is about to begin and the production crew scurries across the floor, making last-minute adjustments. The host, a celebrated producer-director and third-generation Bollywood royalty, Ms. Kiran, walks in. She takes her seat on the awkwardly constructed sofa and welcomes the guest, who is, of course, none other than my weighing scale.

Roll, camera, action!

Ms. Kiran: Hello and welcome to yet another exciting episode of Koffee with Kiran. Our guest tonight is a significant gadget, which has numerous amusing stories to tell about its user, Mrs. Google. So, let’s welcome and hear it from the Weighing Scale!

Weighing Scale: Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to be here.

Ms. Kiran: Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself and your user Mrs. Google.

Weighing Scale: Well, as you have already introduced me, I am Mrs. Google’s weighing scale. I have been with her for almost six years now. There is a ritual that the two of us follow every time we are together. She gingerly steps on me, always standing on the tip of her toes. Then she closes her eyes and gives out a low sigh before peering down at my screen. This is usually followed by a disappointed shriek. She then tries to draw her breath and tummy in, before glancing at the numbers again. Obviously, the readings do not change and she instantly gets off the scale, like a crisp golden bread slice popping out of a toaster.

I always wonder about these four things:

Why tiptoe on the scale? Does she think that standing on her toes instead of placing the entire feet on the scale would make her weigh any lesser?

What’s with the astonished shriek? Does Mrs. Google expect to be 20 pounds lighter every time she stands on me? Like, magically?

Then, ‘inhaling deeply and tucking in of her tummy’ part. How is that ever going to bring down the numbers on scale? If anything, she’s only drawing in more air.

Also, what’s the hurry to get off from me? Will the pounds keep adding like the autorickshaw meter if she stands on me for 30 more seconds?

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm. So clearly, there are some issues here. Tell me, how often does she use you?

Weighing Scale: At least six times a day—with and without clothes, before and after meals, before going to bed, immediately after waking up, ahead of her morning walk and also after the leisurely stroll post dinner.

Ms. Kiran: Okay, let me just set the record straight. Is she…errr…fat?

Weighing Scale: Well, I’ll just say that based on her age, height and body type, she should ideally weigh somewhere between 58 and 62 kilograms. But she leans towards the heavier side. She is 36-24-36 + GST (linked to Aadhar). Now you can do the math yourself as I am ethically bound not to reveal the real numbers.

But Kiran, let me tell you and everyone else watching this show that Mrs. Google is not fat! She is just overweight. And there is a huge, huge difference between being fat and being overweight, especially for women.

Ms. Kiran: I agree. Weight is as sensitive an issue for women as age is, perhaps more so when it is slightly on the higher side. If it is impolite to ask a lady’s age, it is worse to peep into the weighing scale when she’s on it.

Backstage you were telling me how Mrs. Google tried to lose weigh, and there are some hilarious stories you have about that stint, right? So, tell us about her journey from fit to fat and then trying to be fit again.

Weighing Scale: Kiran, a few years back, Mrs. Google was much thinner. Well, maybe that’s a wrong choice of words. Let me rephrase, a few years ago, Mrs. Google was less overweight.

She used to comfortably wear size 10 and size 12 in some brands. Then things started to change. Currently, 80 per cent of her old clothes do not fit her anymore and this hasn’t changed in the last one year. Yet she clings on to them, hoping to fit into them once again. Someday.

Gradually, things started trending from bad to worse. Buttons started to pop out and large gaping areas were formed in her shirts, showing off what should be hidden. Zips refused to close till the end. And whatever she wore defined every curve, crevice and fold of her body. She progressively inflated from every corner, angle and side—a 360-degrees all-round expansion. It was hard on both of us.

Ms. Kiran: Oh poor Mrs. Google and poor you too. Then what happened? Did she do anything about it?

Weighing Scale: Yes, of course she did! So, one day, looking at herself in the full-length mirror, Mrs. Google swore aloud, “Enough is enough! This cannot be happening. I ought to get back into shape.” Immediately, she called her closest buddy, Ms. Kukki, who also suffers from this unfortunate affliction. Both of them decided to meet and discuss the way forward.

Ms. Kiran: Oh goodie! A little teamwork always helps. I’m sure they must have found a way to tackle the issue together.

Weighing Scale: Hah! You must listen to what they did. And don’t ask me how I got all the sordid details. I have my sources inside the house.

So, Ms Kukki arrived in that evening and they hugged and air-kissed like besties. While doing so, both women tried to gauge whose girth was wider. Once they settled down, Mrs. Google ordered the house help to make some adrak–wali chai and pyaaz-aloo bhajiyas as it was raining heavily. Lovely weather like this calls for a little celebration, she reasoned. She also instructed her help to bring along the butter-choco-walnut pound cake that her sister-in-law had brought from Dubai last week.

And it was over tea, bhajiya, cake and namkeen that the ladies discussed their woes and swore to take up an exercise routine ASAP. They chalked out a plan too, starting with brisk walking for 45 minutes and then gradually moving towards the gym, later in the week.

Ms. Kiran: Nice. Things are getting interesting. Then what happened?

Weighing Scale: As she visualised her soon-to-be-svelte figure with child-like glee, Mrs. Google was reminded that all her track pants and tees were either two sizes small or out of fashion. She instantly informed Ms. Kukki about the crisis. And within twenty minutes, both ladies were out to buy new workout clothes.

Seeing Mrs. Google’s dedication towards the new regimen, which was reflected in her eagerness to buy new fitness wear and gear, an inspired Ms. Kukki decided to follow suit. How can Mrs. Google shine away in her new, trendy, branded sportswear, while she lagged behind unnoticed in her three-months-old workout clothes?

After one-and-half hours of repeated trying, changing, selecting and discarding loads of ‘dry fit’ technology-enabled fitness wear, they came out of the mall armed with shiny shopping bags containing pairs of slim-fit tights with contrasting and matching dry fit tees, neon coloured sport shoes, two pairs of socks, a water sipper, a post-workout windcheater and a gym bag. Mrs. Google and Ms. Kukki were all set to enter the world of fitness like divas!

On the way back, Mrs. Google even ordered a fitness tracker watch online and downloaded two exercise tracking apps on the phone to keep track of her fitness regimen.

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I can’t wait to hear what happened next. Carry on…

Weighing Scale: Kiran sweetie, now I will give you a detailed day-to-day account of how both ladies took on their workout regime. You better sit tight and listen up.

Day 1, 7.00 am: They met at a common point between their houses, all decked up in the shiny new gear. With sweat bands on, a hint of lip gloss for a fresh look and shoes laced up, both started walking briskly and chit-chatted all along. Due to the constant babble and energetic pace, they began to pant within 10 minutes. So, they slowed down to a dawdling stroll and completed the proposed 45 minutes.

Day 2, 7.00 am: The first day had been a great success for them as they managed to complete their walk, irrespective of the speed at which they finished it. Hi-fives were exchanged and the women patted each other’s back. Motivated, they began day two, again with quick steps and relentless chit-chat. But soon the pace decelerated and within 500 metres, they were breathless. Meanwhile, they crossed a spot where office goers stopped by to have their chai-sutta-nashta. The whiff of freshly made kachori and vada sambhar made the women go week on their knees. Mrs. Google looked at Ms. Kooki and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Ms. Kooki gestured her affirmation with a meaningful smile. Within five minutes, they were seated on the plastic stools outside the tapree, gorging on hot kachoris and sipping steaming adrak-wali chai.

Day 3, 7.00 am: Two days down, they felt exhilarated. After all, they had succeeded in keeping up with the schedule. But already a little bored of simply walking, they decided to enter their society’s gym. Inside, they met several acquaintances and neighbours. The first 10 minutes were spent in casual catching up. The ladies made sure to ignore Mrs. Rana, who ate like a horse in all the kitty parties but God knows how still managed to look like a French bean. She was the obvious object of their scorn.

After socialising for a while and fixing their hair in the mirrors mounted on the gym walls for a different purpose altogether, the ladies finally managed to drag themselves towards the cardio machines.

Speed: 4

Elevation: Flat

All through the ten minutes of their ‘light’ cardio, they kept cribbing about the bland song choice and the ineffective air-conditioning in the gym.

Calories burned – 38

Finishing their cardio, they sat down huffing and puffing. The gym instructor, a tall, handsome hunk, came over and asked them if they needed any help or if they would like to do some stretching.

Dumbstruck by his hotness and abs which were clearly visible through his tight vest, they couldn’t say ‘no’, even though their legs were wobbly and begged for mercy. Mr. Instructor demonstrated a few basic stretching exercises and flaunted his own muscles. Trying their best to imitate his immaculate moves, they kept falling in exhaustion and clumsiness. After four whole minutes of awkward stretching, the sweaty ladies found that the instructor was busy with other more dedicated disciples. Making the most of this opportunity, they bolted for the door.

Day 4, 7.00 am: By now, each and every muscle of their body, not in the habit of stretching or working out, were sore and hurting. The duo decided to keep it ‘light’ and stick to plain walking. Walk to the tempting tapri. Gorge. And walk back.

Distance covered – 2 km

Calories burned – 70

Calories eaten – 250

Day 5, 7.00 am: Repeat performance of Day 4.

Day 6, 6.30 am: As expected, their schedule didn’t last very long. And so, Ms. Kukki called Mrs. Google to inform that she wouldn’t be able to make it that day as it was a weekend and she wanted to sleep till little late. Obviously, Mrs. Google was more than happy to agree. She too receded under the covers and went back to her sweet slumber.

I knew from the very beginning that this wouldn’t last long, monotony would kill it and exercising incessantly would die a natural death.

Day 7: Nobody called anybody. And, as they say, sometimes no news is good news. The unannounced verdict found mutual consent.

The entire exercising routine was soon forgotten as Mrs. Google & Ms. Kukki chose painless mornings over demanding fitness. The whole ‘silly’ idea was thrown out of the window.

Ms. Kiran: Such a sad and tragic ending to a thoroughly amusing story. Did she try other methods of losing weight post this swiftly aborted exercise routine?

Weighing Scale: Well, after coming to terms that exercising was not her cup of tea, she tried her hand at all sorts of diets—starting with a weeklong GM diet, moving on to the low-carb Atkin’s diet, followed by the chhass only diet, then the most obnoxious cabbage soup diet, the much-celebrated vegan diet, keto diet and even two days of the ‘cotton ball diet’, in which she dipped small balls of fluffy cotton into juices and smoothies and ate them up. Sadly, nothing passed the threshold of the experimentation phase of first few days.

Ms. Kiran: ‘Cotton ball diet’? Gosh, now this is incorrigible. So, did she give it all up finally?

Weighing Scale: Well, Mrs. Google has stopped experimenting with all the bizarre diets. Someone recently suggested to her ‘sniff the food’ technique. She is currently trying her luck with that. Less eating and more sniffing. I wonder how that will pan out for her.

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm… let’s see what that results in. Do keep me posted on that.

So, moving on, let’s play our exciting rapid-fire round. I will ask you a few questions and you have to answer them keeping Mrs. Google in mind. But remember, the replies have to be rapid and, of course, fiery!

Ready? So, here we go…what is Mrs. Google’s weight?

Weighing Scale: 62 + 8 – 40 + 50 – 2

Ms. Kiran: Very well. Tell us about her one secret that even Mr. Planet doesn’t know.

Weighing Scale: She secretly eat chocolates and candies. Mrs. Google stashes them at various covert places, like inside the vegetable compartment of fridge, in the lower most section of her cupboard, unused purses, side table of her bed, behind the spice rack and even in the loo.

Ms. Kiran: What does Mr. Planet say when Mrs. Google asks him if she is looking fat in a particular dress?

Weighing Scale: Oh, he has this one absolutely figured out and well-rehearsed. It’s always a big, compelling ‘NO’. The genuinely surprised and ‘are you kidding’ wala expression on his face is priceless.

Ms. Kiran: Has Mrs. Google ever shared her actual weight with anyone? If so, with whom?

Weighing Scale: Yes. To her doctor, dietician, personal trainer, a sales person for health insurance purposes and one more sales guy at a bicycle shop, just so that he could give her the precise recommendations. Also, to a ride operator at an amusement park because the ride had to be correctly balanced. But for rest of the world, including Mr. Planet, it is a dark, well-guarded secret.

Ms. Kiran: Share a recent embarrassing incident of hers.

Weighing Scale: Last week, she met a friend after a long time. After shrieks of excitement and cheek-on-cheek air kissing, her friend stepped back and looking at Mrs. Google’s tummy, exclaimed, “Wow, looks like you have some good news there!”

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I am sure Mrs. Google wanted to strangle her.

Weighing Scale: You bet! Wait, I got one more. A few days back, she had to stand in a queue at the cash counter of a mall for almost half an hour due to some technical snag in the billing system. So, by the time things got working, she was visibly irritated. The woman behind the desk looked at her upset face and said, “I’m really sorry about your wait.” Without thinking much, courtesy to her bad mood, Mrs. Google snapped back, “You’re not so skinny yourself, madam. Mind you own business, please.” The poor girl did not even try to clarify her intent and resumed work but the ladies standing behind Mrs. Google were in splits. That’s when she realised what the girl had truly meant. She made a quick, embarrassed exit.

Ms. Kiran: OMG! That’s indeed funny.

Okay, tell us five things that make Mrs. Google flip out every time someone mentions in front of her.

Weighing Scale: Hmmm… Yoga, plus size clothing, health food, skinny jeans and people linking her allergies, acne and hair fall to her weight.

Ms. Kiran: If she wakes up as Katrina Kaif, she would….

Weighing Scale: If Mrs. Google wakes up as Katrina, she would go to her office and meet the big boss. She’d ask for a favour, which of course he would undoubtedly grant, she being Katrina for that moment. The favour would be double promotion and a separate cabin for a friend of hers, Mrs. Google.

Ms. Kiran: Haha, that would be a smart thing to do. Thanks a lot for being such a sport. You did very well. Our signature gift hamper, loaded with goodies is on the table next to you.

Now, before you leave, would you like to say something to her through our show?

Weighing Scale: I would like to tell Mrs. Google that although you eat less but you eat wrong. Having some extra weight is not that ‘fat’ an issue as you have made it to be. Being healthy and happy is more important than being thin and sad. So just remember, we all love you for the ‘weigh’ you are!

Next morning, while still in bed, I couldn’t stop laughing at last night’s dream. The incidents shared in it were all factual and indeed hilarious. My husband gave me a puzzled look, seeing me wake up in a happy-but-don’t–know-why state. Inching closer to him swapping my stupid grin with a seductive smile, I whispered, “Do you also love me for the ‘weigh’ I am?”

Perplexed by my unexpectedly amorous mood, barely an hour away from office time, he fumbled, “Of course darling, I love you the ‘way’ you are.”

Ah! If only men could ever understand what woman want (and mean).

My Stuff Speaks 

Author – Sania Siddiqui

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran published first on https://bestbabyinc.tumblr.com

[evodex]

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran

DREAM #2

The setup: There is an opulent set inside a recording studio. Vividly coloured plush couches and sofas are placed across the floor which complemented the weird graphic art and mood lighting all around. The shoot is about to begin and the production crew scurries across the floor, making last-minute adjustments. The host, a celebrated producer-director and third-generation Bollywood royalty, Ms. Kiran, walks in. She takes her seat on the awkwardly constructed sofa and welcomes the guest, who is, of course, none other than my weighing scale.

Roll, camera, action!

Ms. Kiran: Hello and welcome to yet another exciting episode of Koffee with Kiran. Our guest tonight is a significant gadget, which has numerous amusing stories to tell about its user, Mrs. Google. So, let’s welcome and hear it from the Weighing Scale!

Weighing Scale: Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to be here.

Ms. Kiran: Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself and your user Mrs. Google.

Weighing Scale: Well, as you have already introduced me, I am Mrs. Google’s weighing scale. I have been with her for almost six years now. There is a ritual that the two of us follow every time we are together. She gingerly steps on me, always standing on the tip of her toes. Then she closes her eyes and gives out a low sigh before peering down at my screen. This is usually followed by a disappointed shriek. She then tries to draw her breath and tummy in, before glancing at the numbers again. Obviously, the readings do not change and she instantly gets off the scale, like a crisp golden bread slice popping out of a toaster.

I always wonder about these four things:

Why tiptoe on the scale? Does she think that standing on her toes instead of placing the entire feet on the scale would make her weigh any lesser?

What’s with the astonished shriek? Does Mrs. Google expect to be 20 pounds lighter every time she stands on me? Like, magically?

Then, ‘inhaling deeply and tucking in of her tummy’ part. How is that ever going to bring down the numbers on scale? If anything, she’s only drawing in more air.

Also, what’s the hurry to get off from me? Will the pounds keep adding like the autorickshaw meter if she stands on me for 30 more seconds?

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm. So clearly, there are some issues here. Tell me, how often does she use you?

Weighing Scale: At least six times a day—with and without clothes, before and after meals, before going to bed, immediately after waking up, ahead of her morning walk and also after the leisurely stroll post dinner.

Ms. Kiran: Okay, let me just set the record straight. Is she…errr…fat?

Weighing Scale: Well, I’ll just say that based on her age, height and body type, she should ideally weigh somewhere between 58 and 62 kilograms. But she leans towards the heavier side. She is 36-24-36 + GST (linked to Aadhar). Now you can do the math yourself as I am ethically bound not to reveal the real numbers.

But Kiran, let me tell you and everyone else watching this show that Mrs. Google is not fat! She is just overweight. And there is a huge, huge difference between being fat and being overweight, especially for women.

Ms. Kiran: I agree. Weight is as sensitive an issue for women as age is, perhaps more so when it is slightly on the higher side. If it is impolite to ask a lady’s age, it is worse to peep into the weighing scale when she’s on it.

Backstage you were telling me how Mrs. Google tried to lose weigh, and there are some hilarious stories you have about that stint, right? So, tell us about her journey from fit to fat and then trying to be fit again.

Weighing Scale: Kiran, a few years back, Mrs. Google was much thinner. Well, maybe that’s a wrong choice of words. Let me rephrase, a few years ago, Mrs. Google was less overweight.

She used to comfortably wear size 10 and size 12 in some brands. Then things started to change. Currently, 80 per cent of her old clothes do not fit her anymore and this hasn’t changed in the last one year. Yet she clings on to them, hoping to fit into them once again. Someday.

Gradually, things started trending from bad to worse. Buttons started to pop out and large gaping areas were formed in her shirts, showing off what should be hidden. Zips refused to close till the end. And whatever she wore defined every curve, crevice and fold of her body. She progressively inflated from every corner, angle and side—a 360-degrees all-round expansion. It was hard on both of us.

Ms. Kiran: Oh poor Mrs. Google and poor you too. Then what happened? Did she do anything about it?

Weighing Scale: Yes, of course she did! So, one day, looking at herself in the full-length mirror, Mrs. Google swore aloud, “Enough is enough! This cannot be happening. I ought to get back into shape.” Immediately, she called her closest buddy, Ms. Kukki, who also suffers from this unfortunate affliction. Both of them decided to meet and discuss the way forward.

Ms. Kiran: Oh goodie! A little teamwork always helps. I’m sure they must have found a way to tackle the issue together.

Weighing Scale: Hah! You must listen to what they did. And don’t ask me how I got all the sordid details. I have my sources inside the house.

So, Ms Kukki arrived in that evening and they hugged and air-kissed like besties. While doing so, both women tried to gauge whose girth was wider. Once they settled down, Mrs. Google ordered the house help to make some adrak–wali chai and pyaaz-aloo bhajiyas as it was raining heavily. Lovely weather like this calls for a little celebration, she reasoned. She also instructed her help to bring along the butter-choco-walnut pound cake that her sister-in-law had brought from Dubai last week.

And it was over tea, bhajiya, cake and namkeen that the ladies discussed their woes and swore to take up an exercise routine ASAP. They chalked out a plan too, starting with brisk walking for 45 minutes and then gradually moving towards the gym, later in the week.

Ms. Kiran: Nice. Things are getting interesting. Then what happened?

Weighing Scale: As she visualised her soon-to-be-svelte figure with child-like glee, Mrs. Google was reminded that all her track pants and tees were either two sizes small or out of fashion. She instantly informed Ms. Kukki about the crisis. And within twenty minutes, both ladies were out to buy new workout clothes.

Seeing Mrs. Google’s dedication towards the new regimen, which was reflected in her eagerness to buy new fitness wear and gear, an inspired Ms. Kukki decided to follow suit. How can Mrs. Google shine away in her new, trendy, branded sportswear, while she lagged behind unnoticed in her three-months-old workout clothes?

After one-and-half hours of repeated trying, changing, selecting and discarding loads of ‘dry fit’ technology-enabled fitness wear, they came out of the mall armed with shiny shopping bags containing pairs of slim-fit tights with contrasting and matching dry fit tees, neon coloured sport shoes, two pairs of socks, a water sipper, a post-workout windcheater and a gym bag. Mrs. Google and Ms. Kukki were all set to enter the world of fitness like divas!

On the way back, Mrs. Google even ordered a fitness tracker watch online and downloaded two exercise tracking apps on the phone to keep track of her fitness regimen.

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I can’t wait to hear what happened next. Carry on…

Weighing Scale: Kiran sweetie, now I will give you a detailed day-to-day account of how both ladies took on their workout regime. You better sit tight and listen up.

Day 1, 7.00 am: They met at a common point between their houses, all decked up in the shiny new gear. With sweat bands on, a hint of lip gloss for a fresh look and shoes laced up, both started walking briskly and chit-chatted all along. Due to the constant babble and energetic pace, they began to pant within 10 minutes. So, they slowed down to a dawdling stroll and completed the proposed 45 minutes.

Day 2, 7.00 am: The first day had been a great success for them as they managed to complete their walk, irrespective of the speed at which they finished it. Hi-fives were exchanged and the women patted each other’s back. Motivated, they began day two, again with quick steps and relentless chit-chat. But soon the pace decelerated and within 500 metres, they were breathless. Meanwhile, they crossed a spot where office goers stopped by to have their chai-sutta-nashta. The whiff of freshly made kachori and vada sambhar made the women go week on their knees. Mrs. Google looked at Ms. Kooki and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Ms. Kooki gestured her affirmation with a meaningful smile. Within five minutes, they were seated on the plastic stools outside the tapree, gorging on hot kachoris and sipping steaming adrak-wali chai.

Day 3, 7.00 am: Two days down, they felt exhilarated. After all, they had succeeded in keeping up with the schedule. But already a little bored of simply walking, they decided to enter their society’s gym. Inside, they met several acquaintances and neighbours. The first 10 minutes were spent in casual catching up. The ladies made sure to ignore Mrs. Rana, who ate like a horse in all the kitty parties but God knows how still managed to look like a French bean. She was the obvious object of their scorn.

After socialising for a while and fixing their hair in the mirrors mounted on the gym walls for a different purpose altogether, the ladies finally managed to drag themselves towards the cardio machines.

Speed: 4

Elevation: Flat

All through the ten minutes of their ‘light’ cardio, they kept cribbing about the bland song choice and the ineffective air-conditioning in the gym.

Calories burned – 38

Finishing their cardio, they sat down huffing and puffing. The gym instructor, a tall, handsome hunk, came over and asked them if they needed any help or if they would like to do some stretching.

Dumbstruck by his hotness and abs which were clearly visible through his tight vest, they couldn’t say ‘no’, even though their legs were wobbly and begged for mercy. Mr. Instructor demonstrated a few basic stretching exercises and flaunted his own muscles. Trying their best to imitate his immaculate moves, they kept falling in exhaustion and clumsiness. After four whole minutes of awkward stretching, the sweaty ladies found that the instructor was busy with other more dedicated disciples. Making the most of this opportunity, they bolted for the door.

Day 4, 7.00 am: By now, each and every muscle of their body, not in the habit of stretching or working out, were sore and hurting. The duo decided to keep it ‘light’ and stick to plain walking. Walk to the tempting tapri. Gorge. And walk back.

Distance covered – 2 km

Calories burned – 70

Calories eaten – 250

Day 5, 7.00 am: Repeat performance of Day 4.

Day 6, 6.30 am: As expected, their schedule didn’t last very long. And so, Ms. Kukki called Mrs. Google to inform that she wouldn’t be able to make it that day as it was a weekend and she wanted to sleep till little late. Obviously, Mrs. Google was more than happy to agree. She too receded under the covers and went back to her sweet slumber.

I knew from the very beginning that this wouldn’t last long, monotony would kill it and exercising incessantly would die a natural death.

Day 7: Nobody called anybody. And, as they say, sometimes no news is good news. The unannounced verdict found mutual consent.

The entire exercising routine was soon forgotten as Mrs. Google & Ms. Kukki chose painless mornings over demanding fitness. The whole ‘silly’ idea was thrown out of the window.

Ms. Kiran: Such a sad and tragic ending to a thoroughly amusing story. Did she try other methods of losing weight post this swiftly aborted exercise routine?

Weighing Scale: Well, after coming to terms that exercising was not her cup of tea, she tried her hand at all sorts of diets—starting with a weeklong GM diet, moving on to the low-carb Atkin’s diet, followed by the chhass only diet, then the most obnoxious cabbage soup diet, the much-celebrated vegan diet, keto diet and even two days of the ‘cotton ball diet’, in which she dipped small balls of fluffy cotton into juices and smoothies and ate them up. Sadly, nothing passed the threshold of the experimentation phase of first few days.

Ms. Kiran: ‘Cotton ball diet’? Gosh, now this is incorrigible. So, did she give it all up finally?

Weighing Scale: Well, Mrs. Google has stopped experimenting with all the bizarre diets. Someone recently suggested to her ‘sniff the food’ technique. She is currently trying her luck with that. Less eating and more sniffing. I wonder how that will pan out for her.

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm… let’s see what that results in. Do keep me posted on that.

So, moving on, let’s play our exciting rapid-fire round. I will ask you a few questions and you have to answer them keeping Mrs. Google in mind. But remember, the replies have to be rapid and, of course, fiery!

Ready? So, here we go…what is Mrs. Google’s weight?

Weighing Scale: 62 + 8 – 40 + 50 – 2

Ms. Kiran: Very well. Tell us about her one secret that even Mr. Planet doesn’t know.

Weighing Scale: She secretly eat chocolates and candies. Mrs. Google stashes them at various covert places, like inside the vegetable compartment of fridge, in the lower most section of her cupboard, unused purses, side table of her bed, behind the spice rack and even in the loo.

Ms. Kiran: What does Mr. Planet say when Mrs. Google asks him if she is looking fat in a particular dress?

Weighing Scale: Oh, he has this one absolutely figured out and well-rehearsed. It’s always a big, compelling ‘NO’. The genuinely surprised and ‘are you kidding’ wala expression on his face is priceless.

Ms. Kiran: Has Mrs. Google ever shared her actual weight with anyone? If so, with whom?

Weighing Scale: Yes. To her doctor, dietician, personal trainer, a sales person for health insurance purposes and one more sales guy at a bicycle shop, just so that he could give her the precise recommendations. Also, to a ride operator at an amusement park because the ride had to be correctly balanced. But for rest of the world, including Mr. Planet, it is a dark, well-guarded secret.

Ms. Kiran: Share a recent embarrassing incident of hers.

Weighing Scale: Last week, she met a friend after a long time. After shrieks of excitement and cheek-on-cheek air kissing, her friend stepped back and looking at Mrs. Google’s tummy, exclaimed, “Wow, looks like you have some good news there!”

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I am sure Mrs. Google wanted to strangle her.

Weighing Scale: You bet! Wait, I got one more. A few days back, she had to stand in a queue at the cash counter of a mall for almost half an hour due to some technical snag in the billing system. So, by the time things got working, she was visibly irritated. The woman behind the desk looked at her upset face and said, “I’m really sorry about your wait.” Without thinking much, courtesy to her bad mood, Mrs. Google snapped back, “You’re not so skinny yourself, madam. Mind you own business, please.” The poor girl did not even try to clarify her intent and resumed work but the ladies standing behind Mrs. Google were in splits. That’s when she realised what the girl had truly meant. She made a quick, embarrassed exit.

Ms. Kiran: OMG! That’s indeed funny.

Okay, tell us five things that make Mrs. Google flip out every time someone mentions in front of her.

Weighing Scale: Hmmm… Yoga, plus size clothing, health food, skinny jeans and people linking her allergies, acne and hair fall to her weight.

Ms. Kiran: If she wakes up as Katrina Kaif, she would….

Weighing Scale: If Mrs. Google wakes up as Katrina, she would go to her office and meet the big boss. She’d ask for a favour, which of course he would undoubtedly grant, she being Katrina for that moment. The favour would be double promotion and a separate cabin for a friend of hers, Mrs. Google.

Ms. Kiran: Haha, that would be a smart thing to do. Thanks a lot for being such a sport. You did very well. Our signature gift hamper, loaded with goodies is on the table next to you.

Now, before you leave, would you like to say something to her through our show?

Weighing Scale: I would like to tell Mrs. Google that although you eat less but you eat wrong. Having some extra weight is not that ‘fat’ an issue as you have made it to be. Being healthy and happy is more important than being thin and sad. So just remember, we all love you for the ‘weigh’ you are!

Next morning, while still in bed, I couldn’t stop laughing at last night’s dream. The incidents shared in it were all factual and indeed hilarious. My husband gave me a puzzled look, seeing me wake up in a happy-but-don’t–know-why state. Inching closer to him swapping my stupid grin with a seductive smile, I whispered, “Do you also love me for the ‘weigh’ I am?”

Perplexed by my unexpectedly amorous mood, barely an hour away from office time, he fumbled, “Of course darling, I love you the ‘way’ you are.”

Ah! If only men could ever understand what woman want (and mean).

My Stuff Speaks 

Author – Sania Siddiqui

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran published first on https://bestbabyinc.tumblr.com

[evodex]

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran

DREAM #2

The setup: There is an opulent set inside a recording studio. Vividly coloured plush couches and sofas are placed across the floor which complemented the weird graphic art and mood lighting all around. The shoot is about to begin and the production crew scurries across the floor, making last-minute adjustments. The host, a celebrated producer-director and third-generation Bollywood royalty, Ms. Kiran, walks in. She takes her seat on the awkwardly constructed sofa and welcomes the guest, who is, of course, none other than my weighing scale.

Roll, camera, action!

Ms. Kiran: Hello and welcome to yet another exciting episode of Koffee with Kiran. Our guest tonight is a significant gadget, which has numerous amusing stories to tell about its user, Mrs. Google. So, let’s welcome and hear it from the Weighing Scale!

Weighing Scale: Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to be here.

Ms. Kiran: Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself and your user Mrs. Google.

Weighing Scale: Well, as you have already introduced me, I am Mrs. Google’s weighing scale. I have been with her for almost six years now. There is a ritual that the two of us follow every time we are together. She gingerly steps on me, always standing on the tip of her toes. Then she closes her eyes and gives out a low sigh before peering down at my screen. This is usually followed by a disappointed shriek. She then tries to draw her breath and tummy in, before glancing at the numbers again. Obviously, the readings do not change and she instantly gets off the scale, like a crisp golden bread slice popping out of a toaster.

I always wonder about these four things:

Why tiptoe on the scale? Does she think that standing on her toes instead of placing the entire feet on the scale would make her weigh any lesser?

What’s with the astonished shriek? Does Mrs. Google expect to be 20 pounds lighter every time she stands on me? Like, magically?

Then, ‘inhaling deeply and tucking in of her tummy’ part. How is that ever going to bring down the numbers on scale? If anything, she’s only drawing in more air.

Also, what’s the hurry to get off from me? Will the pounds keep adding like the autorickshaw meter if she stands on me for 30 more seconds?

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm. So clearly, there are some issues here. Tell me, how often does she use you?

Weighing Scale: At least six times a day—with and without clothes, before and after meals, before going to bed, immediately after waking up, ahead of her morning walk and also after the leisurely stroll post dinner.

Ms. Kiran: Okay, let me just set the record straight. Is she…errr…fat?

Weighing Scale: Well, I’ll just say that based on her age, height and body type, she should ideally weigh somewhere between 58 and 62 kilograms. But she leans towards the heavier side. She is 36-24-36 + GST (linked to Aadhar). Now you can do the math yourself as I am ethically bound not to reveal the real numbers.

But Kiran, let me tell you and everyone else watching this show that Mrs. Google is not fat! She is just overweight. And there is a huge, huge difference between being fat and being overweight, especially for women.

Ms. Kiran: I agree. Weight is as sensitive an issue for women as age is, perhaps more so when it is slightly on the higher side. If it is impolite to ask a lady’s age, it is worse to peep into the weighing scale when she’s on it.

Backstage you were telling me how Mrs. Google tried to lose weigh, and there are some hilarious stories you have about that stint, right? So, tell us about her journey from fit to fat and then trying to be fit again.

Weighing Scale: Kiran, a few years back, Mrs. Google was much thinner. Well, maybe that’s a wrong choice of words. Let me rephrase, a few years ago, Mrs. Google was less overweight.

She used to comfortably wear size 10 and size 12 in some brands. Then things started to change. Currently, 80 per cent of her old clothes do not fit her anymore and this hasn’t changed in the last one year. Yet she clings on to them, hoping to fit into them once again. Someday.

Gradually, things started trending from bad to worse. Buttons started to pop out and large gaping areas were formed in her shirts, showing off what should be hidden. Zips refused to close till the end. And whatever she wore defined every curve, crevice and fold of her body. She progressively inflated from every corner, angle and side—a 360-degrees all-round expansion. It was hard on both of us.

Ms. Kiran: Oh poor Mrs. Google and poor you too. Then what happened? Did she do anything about it?

Weighing Scale: Yes, of course she did! So, one day, looking at herself in the full-length mirror, Mrs. Google swore aloud, “Enough is enough! This cannot be happening. I ought to get back into shape.” Immediately, she called her closest buddy, Ms. Kukki, who also suffers from this unfortunate affliction. Both of them decided to meet and discuss the way forward.

Ms. Kiran: Oh goodie! A little teamwork always helps. I’m sure they must have found a way to tackle the issue together.

Weighing Scale: Hah! You must listen to what they did. And don’t ask me how I got all the sordid details. I have my sources inside the house.

So, Ms Kukki arrived in that evening and they hugged and air-kissed like besties. While doing so, both women tried to gauge whose girth was wider. Once they settled down, Mrs. Google ordered the house help to make some adrak–wali chai and pyaaz-aloo bhajiyas as it was raining heavily. Lovely weather like this calls for a little celebration, she reasoned. She also instructed her help to bring along the butter-choco-walnut pound cake that her sister-in-law had brought from Dubai last week.

And it was over tea, bhajiya, cake and namkeen that the ladies discussed their woes and swore to take up an exercise routine ASAP. They chalked out a plan too, starting with brisk walking for 45 minutes and then gradually moving towards the gym, later in the week.

Ms. Kiran: Nice. Things are getting interesting. Then what happened?

Weighing Scale: As she visualised her soon-to-be-svelte figure with child-like glee, Mrs. Google was reminded that all her track pants and tees were either two sizes small or out of fashion. She instantly informed Ms. Kukki about the crisis. And within twenty minutes, both ladies were out to buy new workout clothes.

Seeing Mrs. Google’s dedication towards the new regimen, which was reflected in her eagerness to buy new fitness wear and gear, an inspired Ms. Kukki decided to follow suit. How can Mrs. Google shine away in her new, trendy, branded sportswear, while she lagged behind unnoticed in her three-months-old workout clothes?

After one-and-half hours of repeated trying, changing, selecting and discarding loads of ‘dry fit’ technology-enabled fitness wear, they came out of the mall armed with shiny shopping bags containing pairs of slim-fit tights with contrasting and matching dry fit tees, neon coloured sport shoes, two pairs of socks, a water sipper, a post-workout windcheater and a gym bag. Mrs. Google and Ms. Kukki were all set to enter the world of fitness like divas!

On the way back, Mrs. Google even ordered a fitness tracker watch online and downloaded two exercise tracking apps on the phone to keep track of her fitness regimen.

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I can’t wait to hear what happened next. Carry on…

Weighing Scale: Kiran sweetie, now I will give you a detailed day-to-day account of how both ladies took on their workout regime. You better sit tight and listen up.

Day 1, 7.00 am: They met at a common point between their houses, all decked up in the shiny new gear. With sweat bands on, a hint of lip gloss for a fresh look and shoes laced up, both started walking briskly and chit-chatted all along. Due to the constant babble and energetic pace, they began to pant within 10 minutes. So, they slowed down to a dawdling stroll and completed the proposed 45 minutes.

Day 2, 7.00 am: The first day had been a great success for them as they managed to complete their walk, irrespective of the speed at which they finished it. Hi-fives were exchanged and the women patted each other’s back. Motivated, they began day two, again with quick steps and relentless chit-chat. But soon the pace decelerated and within 500 metres, they were breathless. Meanwhile, they crossed a spot where office goers stopped by to have their chai-sutta-nashta. The whiff of freshly made kachori and vada sambhar made the women go week on their knees. Mrs. Google looked at Ms. Kooki and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Ms. Kooki gestured her affirmation with a meaningful smile. Within five minutes, they were seated on the plastic stools outside the tapree, gorging on hot kachoris and sipping steaming adrak-wali chai.

Day 3, 7.00 am: Two days down, they felt exhilarated. After all, they had succeeded in keeping up with the schedule. But already a little bored of simply walking, they decided to enter their society’s gym. Inside, they met several acquaintances and neighbours. The first 10 minutes were spent in casual catching up. The ladies made sure to ignore Mrs. Rana, who ate like a horse in all the kitty parties but God knows how still managed to look like a French bean. She was the obvious object of their scorn.

After socialising for a while and fixing their hair in the mirrors mounted on the gym walls for a different purpose altogether, the ladies finally managed to drag themselves towards the cardio machines.

Speed: 4

Elevation: Flat

All through the ten minutes of their ‘light’ cardio, they kept cribbing about the bland song choice and the ineffective air-conditioning in the gym.

Calories burned – 38

Finishing their cardio, they sat down huffing and puffing. The gym instructor, a tall, handsome hunk, came over and asked them if they needed any help or if they would like to do some stretching.

Dumbstruck by his hotness and abs which were clearly visible through his tight vest, they couldn’t say ‘no’, even though their legs were wobbly and begged for mercy. Mr. Instructor demonstrated a few basic stretching exercises and flaunted his own muscles. Trying their best to imitate his immaculate moves, they kept falling in exhaustion and clumsiness. After four whole minutes of awkward stretching, the sweaty ladies found that the instructor was busy with other more dedicated disciples. Making the most of this opportunity, they bolted for the door.

Day 4, 7.00 am: By now, each and every muscle of their body, not in the habit of stretching or working out, were sore and hurting. The duo decided to keep it ‘light’ and stick to plain walking. Walk to the tempting tapri. Gorge. And walk back.

Distance covered – 2 km

Calories burned – 70

Calories eaten – 250

Day 5, 7.00 am: Repeat performance of Day 4.

Day 6, 6.30 am: As expected, their schedule didn’t last very long. And so, Ms. Kukki called Mrs. Google to inform that she wouldn’t be able to make it that day as it was a weekend and she wanted to sleep till little late. Obviously, Mrs. Google was more than happy to agree. She too receded under the covers and went back to her sweet slumber.

I knew from the very beginning that this wouldn’t last long, monotony would kill it and exercising incessantly would die a natural death.

Day 7: Nobody called anybody. And, as they say, sometimes no news is good news. The unannounced verdict found mutual consent.

The entire exercising routine was soon forgotten as Mrs. Google & Ms. Kukki chose painless mornings over demanding fitness. The whole ‘silly’ idea was thrown out of the window.

Ms. Kiran: Such a sad and tragic ending to a thoroughly amusing story. Did she try other methods of losing weight post this swiftly aborted exercise routine?

Weighing Scale: Well, after coming to terms that exercising was not her cup of tea, she tried her hand at all sorts of diets—starting with a weeklong GM diet, moving on to the low-carb Atkin’s diet, followed by the chhass only diet, then the most obnoxious cabbage soup diet, the much-celebrated vegan diet, keto diet and even two days of the ‘cotton ball diet’, in which she dipped small balls of fluffy cotton into juices and smoothies and ate them up. Sadly, nothing passed the threshold of the experimentation phase of first few days.

Ms. Kiran: ‘Cotton ball diet’? Gosh, now this is incorrigible. So, did she give it all up finally?

Weighing Scale: Well, Mrs. Google has stopped experimenting with all the bizarre diets. Someone recently suggested to her ‘sniff the food’ technique. She is currently trying her luck with that. Less eating and more sniffing. I wonder how that will pan out for her.

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm… let’s see what that results in. Do keep me posted on that.

So, moving on, let’s play our exciting rapid-fire round. I will ask you a few questions and you have to answer them keeping Mrs. Google in mind. But remember, the replies have to be rapid and, of course, fiery!

Ready? So, here we go…what is Mrs. Google’s weight?

Weighing Scale: 62 + 8 – 40 + 50 – 2

Ms. Kiran: Very well. Tell us about her one secret that even Mr. Planet doesn’t know.

Weighing Scale: She secretly eat chocolates and candies. Mrs. Google stashes them at various covert places, like inside the vegetable compartment of fridge, in the lower most section of her cupboard, unused purses, side table of her bed, behind the spice rack and even in the loo.

Ms. Kiran: What does Mr. Planet say when Mrs. Google asks him if she is looking fat in a particular dress?

Weighing Scale: Oh, he has this one absolutely figured out and well-rehearsed. It’s always a big, compelling ‘NO’. The genuinely surprised and ‘are you kidding’ wala expression on his face is priceless.

Ms. Kiran: Has Mrs. Google ever shared her actual weight with anyone? If so, with whom?

Weighing Scale: Yes. To her doctor, dietician, personal trainer, a sales person for health insurance purposes and one more sales guy at a bicycle shop, just so that he could give her the precise recommendations. Also, to a ride operator at an amusement park because the ride had to be correctly balanced. But for rest of the world, including Mr. Planet, it is a dark, well-guarded secret.

Ms. Kiran: Share a recent embarrassing incident of hers.

Weighing Scale: Last week, she met a friend after a long time. After shrieks of excitement and cheek-on-cheek air kissing, her friend stepped back and looking at Mrs. Google’s tummy, exclaimed, “Wow, looks like you have some good news there!”

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I am sure Mrs. Google wanted to strangle her.

Weighing Scale: You bet! Wait, I got one more. A few days back, she had to stand in a queue at the cash counter of a mall for almost half an hour due to some technical snag in the billing system. So, by the time things got working, she was visibly irritated. The woman behind the desk looked at her upset face and said, “I’m really sorry about your wait.” Without thinking much, courtesy to her bad mood, Mrs. Google snapped back, “You’re not so skinny yourself, madam. Mind you own business, please.” The poor girl did not even try to clarify her intent and resumed work but the ladies standing behind Mrs. Google were in splits. That’s when she realised what the girl had truly meant. She made a quick, embarrassed exit.

Ms. Kiran: OMG! That’s indeed funny.

Okay, tell us five things that make Mrs. Google flip out every time someone mentions in front of her.

Weighing Scale: Hmmm… Yoga, plus size clothing, health food, skinny jeans and people linking her allergies, acne and hair fall to her weight.

Ms. Kiran: If she wakes up as Katrina Kaif, she would….

Weighing Scale: If Mrs. Google wakes up as Katrina, she would go to her office and meet the big boss. She’d ask for a favour, which of course he would undoubtedly grant, she being Katrina for that moment. The favour would be double promotion and a separate cabin for a friend of hers, Mrs. Google.

Ms. Kiran: Haha, that would be a smart thing to do. Thanks a lot for being such a sport. You did very well. Our signature gift hamper, loaded with goodies is on the table next to you.

Now, before you leave, would you like to say something to her through our show?

Weighing Scale: I would like to tell Mrs. Google that although you eat less but you eat wrong. Having some extra weight is not that ‘fat’ an issue as you have made it to be. Being healthy and happy is more important than being thin and sad. So just remember, we all love you for the ‘weigh’ you are!

Next morning, while still in bed, I couldn’t stop laughing at last night’s dream. The incidents shared in it were all factual and indeed hilarious. My husband gave me a puzzled look, seeing me wake up in a happy-but-don’t–know-why state. Inching closer to him swapping my stupid grin with a seductive smile, I whispered, “Do you also love me for the ‘weigh’ I am?”

Perplexed by my unexpectedly amorous mood, barely an hour away from office time, he fumbled, “Of course darling, I love you the ‘way’ you are.”

Ah! If only men could ever understand what woman want (and mean).

My Stuff Speaks 

Author – Sania Siddiqui

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran published first on https://bestbabyinc.tumblr.com

[evodex]

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran

DREAM #2

The setup: There is an opulent set inside a recording studio. Vividly coloured plush couches and sofas are placed across the floor which complemented the weird graphic art and mood lighting all around. The shoot is about to begin and the production crew scurries across the floor, making last-minute adjustments. The host, a celebrated producer-director and third-generation Bollywood royalty, Ms. Kiran, walks in. She takes her seat on the awkwardly constructed sofa and welcomes the guest, who is, of course, none other than my weighing scale.

Roll, camera, action!

Ms. Kiran: Hello and welcome to yet another exciting episode of Koffee with Kiran. Our guest tonight is a significant gadget, which has numerous amusing stories to tell about its user, Mrs. Google. So, let’s welcome and hear it from the Weighing Scale!

Weighing Scale: Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to be here.

Ms. Kiran: Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself and your user Mrs. Google.

Weighing Scale: Well, as you have already introduced me, I am Mrs. Google’s weighing scale. I have been with her for almost six years now. There is a ritual that the two of us follow every time we are together. She gingerly steps on me, always standing on the tip of her toes. Then she closes her eyes and gives out a low sigh before peering down at my screen. This is usually followed by a disappointed shriek. She then tries to draw her breath and tummy in, before glancing at the numbers again. Obviously, the readings do not change and she instantly gets off the scale, like a crisp golden bread slice popping out of a toaster.

I always wonder about these four things:

Why tiptoe on the scale? Does she think that standing on her toes instead of placing the entire feet on the scale would make her weigh any lesser?

What’s with the astonished shriek? Does Mrs. Google expect to be 20 pounds lighter every time she stands on me? Like, magically?

Then, ‘inhaling deeply and tucking in of her tummy’ part. How is that ever going to bring down the numbers on scale? If anything, she’s only drawing in more air.

Also, what’s the hurry to get off from me? Will the pounds keep adding like the autorickshaw meter if she stands on me for 30 more seconds?

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm. So clearly, there are some issues here. Tell me, how often does she use you?

Weighing Scale: At least six times a day—with and without clothes, before and after meals, before going to bed, immediately after waking up, ahead of her morning walk and also after the leisurely stroll post dinner.

Ms. Kiran: Okay, let me just set the record straight. Is she…errr…fat?

Weighing Scale: Well, I’ll just say that based on her age, height and body type, she should ideally weigh somewhere between 58 and 62 kilograms. But she leans towards the heavier side. She is 36-24-36 + GST (linked to Aadhar). Now you can do the math yourself as I am ethically bound not to reveal the real numbers.

But Kiran, let me tell you and everyone else watching this show that Mrs. Google is not fat! She is just overweight. And there is a huge, huge difference between being fat and being overweight, especially for women.

Ms. Kiran: I agree. Weight is as sensitive an issue for women as age is, perhaps more so when it is slightly on the higher side. If it is impolite to ask a lady’s age, it is worse to peep into the weighing scale when she’s on it.

Backstage you were telling me how Mrs. Google tried to lose weigh, and there are some hilarious stories you have about that stint, right? So, tell us about her journey from fit to fat and then trying to be fit again.

Weighing Scale: Kiran, a few years back, Mrs. Google was much thinner. Well, maybe that’s a wrong choice of words. Let me rephrase, a few years ago, Mrs. Google was less overweight.

She used to comfortably wear size 10 and size 12 in some brands. Then things started to change. Currently, 80 per cent of her old clothes do not fit her anymore and this hasn’t changed in the last one year. Yet she clings on to them, hoping to fit into them once again. Someday.

Gradually, things started trending from bad to worse. Buttons started to pop out and large gaping areas were formed in her shirts, showing off what should be hidden. Zips refused to close till the end. And whatever she wore defined every curve, crevice and fold of her body. She progressively inflated from every corner, angle and side—a 360-degrees all-round expansion. It was hard on both of us.

Ms. Kiran: Oh poor Mrs. Google and poor you too. Then what happened? Did she do anything about it?

Weighing Scale: Yes, of course she did! So, one day, looking at herself in the full-length mirror, Mrs. Google swore aloud, “Enough is enough! This cannot be happening. I ought to get back into shape.” Immediately, she called her closest buddy, Ms. Kukki, who also suffers from this unfortunate affliction. Both of them decided to meet and discuss the way forward.

Ms. Kiran: Oh goodie! A little teamwork always helps. I’m sure they must have found a way to tackle the issue together.

Weighing Scale: Hah! You must listen to what they did. And don’t ask me how I got all the sordid details. I have my sources inside the house.

So, Ms Kukki arrived in that evening and they hugged and air-kissed like besties. While doing so, both women tried to gauge whose girth was wider. Once they settled down, Mrs. Google ordered the house help to make some adrak–wali chai and pyaaz-aloo bhajiyas as it was raining heavily. Lovely weather like this calls for a little celebration, she reasoned. She also instructed her help to bring along the butter-choco-walnut pound cake that her sister-in-law had brought from Dubai last week.

And it was over tea, bhajiya, cake and namkeen that the ladies discussed their woes and swore to take up an exercise routine ASAP. They chalked out a plan too, starting with brisk walking for 45 minutes and then gradually moving towards the gym, later in the week.

Ms. Kiran: Nice. Things are getting interesting. Then what happened?

Weighing Scale: As she visualised her soon-to-be-svelte figure with child-like glee, Mrs. Google was reminded that all her track pants and tees were either two sizes small or out of fashion. She instantly informed Ms. Kukki about the crisis. And within twenty minutes, both ladies were out to buy new workout clothes.

Seeing Mrs. Google’s dedication towards the new regimen, which was reflected in her eagerness to buy new fitness wear and gear, an inspired Ms. Kukki decided to follow suit. How can Mrs. Google shine away in her new, trendy, branded sportswear, while she lagged behind unnoticed in her three-months-old workout clothes?

After one-and-half hours of repeated trying, changing, selecting and discarding loads of ‘dry fit’ technology-enabled fitness wear, they came out of the mall armed with shiny shopping bags containing pairs of slim-fit tights with contrasting and matching dry fit tees, neon coloured sport shoes, two pairs of socks, a water sipper, a post-workout windcheater and a gym bag. Mrs. Google and Ms. Kukki were all set to enter the world of fitness like divas!

On the way back, Mrs. Google even ordered a fitness tracker watch online and downloaded two exercise tracking apps on the phone to keep track of her fitness regimen.

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I can’t wait to hear what happened next. Carry on…

Weighing Scale: Kiran sweetie, now I will give you a detailed day-to-day account of how both ladies took on their workout regime. You better sit tight and listen up.

Day 1, 7.00 am: They met at a common point between their houses, all decked up in the shiny new gear. With sweat bands on, a hint of lip gloss for a fresh look and shoes laced up, both started walking briskly and chit-chatted all along. Due to the constant babble and energetic pace, they began to pant within 10 minutes. So, they slowed down to a dawdling stroll and completed the proposed 45 minutes.

Day 2, 7.00 am: The first day had been a great success for them as they managed to complete their walk, irrespective of the speed at which they finished it. Hi-fives were exchanged and the women patted each other’s back. Motivated, they began day two, again with quick steps and relentless chit-chat. But soon the pace decelerated and within 500 metres, they were breathless. Meanwhile, they crossed a spot where office goers stopped by to have their chai-sutta-nashta. The whiff of freshly made kachori and vada sambhar made the women go week on their knees. Mrs. Google looked at Ms. Kooki and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Ms. Kooki gestured her affirmation with a meaningful smile. Within five minutes, they were seated on the plastic stools outside the tapree, gorging on hot kachoris and sipping steaming adrak-wali chai.

Day 3, 7.00 am: Two days down, they felt exhilarated. After all, they had succeeded in keeping up with the schedule. But already a little bored of simply walking, they decided to enter their society’s gym. Inside, they met several acquaintances and neighbours. The first 10 minutes were spent in casual catching up. The ladies made sure to ignore Mrs. Rana, who ate like a horse in all the kitty parties but God knows how still managed to look like a French bean. She was the obvious object of their scorn.

After socialising for a while and fixing their hair in the mirrors mounted on the gym walls for a different purpose altogether, the ladies finally managed to drag themselves towards the cardio machines.

Speed: 4

Elevation: Flat

All through the ten minutes of their ‘light’ cardio, they kept cribbing about the bland song choice and the ineffective air-conditioning in the gym.

Calories burned – 38

Finishing their cardio, they sat down huffing and puffing. The gym instructor, a tall, handsome hunk, came over and asked them if they needed any help or if they would like to do some stretching.

Dumbstruck by his hotness and abs which were clearly visible through his tight vest, they couldn’t say ‘no’, even though their legs were wobbly and begged for mercy. Mr. Instructor demonstrated a few basic stretching exercises and flaunted his own muscles. Trying their best to imitate his immaculate moves, they kept falling in exhaustion and clumsiness. After four whole minutes of awkward stretching, the sweaty ladies found that the instructor was busy with other more dedicated disciples. Making the most of this opportunity, they bolted for the door.

Day 4, 7.00 am: By now, each and every muscle of their body, not in the habit of stretching or working out, were sore and hurting. The duo decided to keep it ‘light’ and stick to plain walking. Walk to the tempting tapri. Gorge. And walk back.

Distance covered – 2 km

Calories burned – 70

Calories eaten – 250

Day 5, 7.00 am: Repeat performance of Day 4.

Day 6, 6.30 am: As expected, their schedule didn’t last very long. And so, Ms. Kukki called Mrs. Google to inform that she wouldn’t be able to make it that day as it was a weekend and she wanted to sleep till little late. Obviously, Mrs. Google was more than happy to agree. She too receded under the covers and went back to her sweet slumber.

I knew from the very beginning that this wouldn’t last long, monotony would kill it and exercising incessantly would die a natural death.

Day 7: Nobody called anybody. And, as they say, sometimes no news is good news. The unannounced verdict found mutual consent.

The entire exercising routine was soon forgotten as Mrs. Google & Ms. Kukki chose painless mornings over demanding fitness. The whole ‘silly’ idea was thrown out of the window.

Ms. Kiran: Such a sad and tragic ending to a thoroughly amusing story. Did she try other methods of losing weight post this swiftly aborted exercise routine?

Weighing Scale: Well, after coming to terms that exercising was not her cup of tea, she tried her hand at all sorts of diets—starting with a weeklong GM diet, moving on to the low-carb Atkin’s diet, followed by the chhass only diet, then the most obnoxious cabbage soup diet, the much-celebrated vegan diet, keto diet and even two days of the ‘cotton ball diet’, in which she dipped small balls of fluffy cotton into juices and smoothies and ate them up. Sadly, nothing passed the threshold of the experimentation phase of first few days.

Ms. Kiran: ‘Cotton ball diet’? Gosh, now this is incorrigible. So, did she give it all up finally?

Weighing Scale: Well, Mrs. Google has stopped experimenting with all the bizarre diets. Someone recently suggested to her ‘sniff the food’ technique. She is currently trying her luck with that. Less eating and more sniffing. I wonder how that will pan out for her.

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm… let’s see what that results in. Do keep me posted on that.

So, moving on, let’s play our exciting rapid-fire round. I will ask you a few questions and you have to answer them keeping Mrs. Google in mind. But remember, the replies have to be rapid and, of course, fiery!

Ready? So, here we go…what is Mrs. Google’s weight?

Weighing Scale: 62 + 8 – 40 + 50 – 2

Ms. Kiran: Very well. Tell us about her one secret that even Mr. Planet doesn’t know.

Weighing Scale: She secretly eat chocolates and candies. Mrs. Google stashes them at various covert places, like inside the vegetable compartment of fridge, in the lower most section of her cupboard, unused purses, side table of her bed, behind the spice rack and even in the loo.

Ms. Kiran: What does Mr. Planet say when Mrs. Google asks him if she is looking fat in a particular dress?

Weighing Scale: Oh, he has this one absolutely figured out and well-rehearsed. It’s always a big, compelling ‘NO’. The genuinely surprised and ‘are you kidding’ wala expression on his face is priceless.

Ms. Kiran: Has Mrs. Google ever shared her actual weight with anyone? If so, with whom?

Weighing Scale: Yes. To her doctor, dietician, personal trainer, a sales person for health insurance purposes and one more sales guy at a bicycle shop, just so that he could give her the precise recommendations. Also, to a ride operator at an amusement park because the ride had to be correctly balanced. But for rest of the world, including Mr. Planet, it is a dark, well-guarded secret.

Ms. Kiran: Share a recent embarrassing incident of hers.

Weighing Scale: Last week, she met a friend after a long time. After shrieks of excitement and cheek-on-cheek air kissing, her friend stepped back and looking at Mrs. Google’s tummy, exclaimed, “Wow, looks like you have some good news there!”

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I am sure Mrs. Google wanted to strangle her.

Weighing Scale: You bet! Wait, I got one more. A few days back, she had to stand in a queue at the cash counter of a mall for almost half an hour due to some technical snag in the billing system. So, by the time things got working, she was visibly irritated. The woman behind the desk looked at her upset face and said, “I’m really sorry about your wait.” Without thinking much, courtesy to her bad mood, Mrs. Google snapped back, “You’re not so skinny yourself, madam. Mind you own business, please.” The poor girl did not even try to clarify her intent and resumed work but the ladies standing behind Mrs. Google were in splits. That’s when she realised what the girl had truly meant. She made a quick, embarrassed exit.

Ms. Kiran: OMG! That’s indeed funny.

Okay, tell us five things that make Mrs. Google flip out every time someone mentions in front of her.

Weighing Scale: Hmmm… Yoga, plus size clothing, health food, skinny jeans and people linking her allergies, acne and hair fall to her weight.

Ms. Kiran: If she wakes up as Katrina Kaif, she would….

Weighing Scale: If Mrs. Google wakes up as Katrina, she would go to her office and meet the big boss. She’d ask for a favour, which of course he would undoubtedly grant, she being Katrina for that moment. The favour would be double promotion and a separate cabin for a friend of hers, Mrs. Google.

Ms. Kiran: Haha, that would be a smart thing to do. Thanks a lot for being such a sport. You did very well. Our signature gift hamper, loaded with goodies is on the table next to you.

Now, before you leave, would you like to say something to her through our show?

Weighing Scale: I would like to tell Mrs. Google that although you eat less but you eat wrong. Having some extra weight is not that ‘fat’ an issue as you have made it to be. Being healthy and happy is more important than being thin and sad. So just remember, we all love you for the ‘weigh’ you are!

Next morning, while still in bed, I couldn’t stop laughing at last night’s dream. The incidents shared in it were all factual and indeed hilarious. My husband gave me a puzzled look, seeing me wake up in a happy-but-don’t–know-why state. Inching closer to him swapping my stupid grin with a seductive smile, I whispered, “Do you also love me for the ‘weigh’ I am?”

Perplexed by my unexpectedly amorous mood, barely an hour away from office time, he fumbled, “Of course darling, I love you the ‘way’ you are.”

Ah! If only men could ever understand what woman want (and mean).

My Stuff Speaks 

Author – Sania Siddiqui

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran published first on https://bestbabyinc.tumblr.com

[evodex]

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran

DREAM #2

The setup: There is an opulent set inside a recording studio. Vividly coloured plush couches and sofas are placed across the floor, to complement the weird graphic art and mood lighting all around. The shoot is about to begin and the production crew scurries across the floor, making last-minute adjustments. The host, a celebrated producer-director and third-generation Bollywood royalty, Ms. Kiran, walks in. She takes her seat on the awkwardly constructed sofa and welcomes the guest, who is, of course, none other than my weighing scale.

Roll, camera, action!

Ms. Kiran: Hello and welcome to yet another exciting episode of Koffee with Kiran. Our guest tonight is a significant gadget, which has numerous amusing stories to tell about its user, Mrs. Google. So, let’s welcome Weighing Scale!

Weighing Scale: Thank you so much. It’s a pleasure to be here.

Ms. Kiran: Why don’t you start by telling us a little about yourself and your user Mrs. Google?

Weighing Scale: Well, as you have already introduced me, I am Mrs. Google’s weighing scale. I have been with her for almost six years now. There is a ritual that the two of us follow every time we are together. She gingerly steps on me, always standing on the tip of her toes. Then she closes her eyes and gives out a low sigh before peering down at my screen. This is usually followed by a disappointed shriek. She then tries to draw her breath and tummy in, before glancing at the numbers again. Obviously, the readings do not change and she instantly gets off the scale, like a crisp golden bread slice popping out of a toaster.

I always wonder about these four things:

Why tiptoe on the scale? Does she think that standing on her toes instead of placing the entire feet on the scale would make her weigh any lesser?

What’s with the astonished shriek? Does Mrs. Google expect to be 20 pounds lighter every time she stands on me? Magically?

Then ‘inhaling deeply and tucking in of her tummy’ part! How is that ever going to bring down the numbers on scale? If anything, she’s only drawing in more air.

Also, what’s the hurry to get off from me? Will the pounds keep adding like the autorickshaw meter if she stands on me for 30 more seconds?

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm. So clearly, there are some issues here. Tell me, how often does she use you?

Weighing Scale: At least six times a day—with and without clothes, before and after meals, before going to bed, immediately after waking up, ahead of her morning walk and also after the leisurely stroll post dinner.

Ms. Kiran: Okay, let me just set the record straight. Is she…errr…fat?

Weighing Scale: Well, I’ll just say that based on her age, height and body type, she should ideally weigh somewhere between 58 and 62 kilograms. But she leans towards the heavier side. She is 36-24-36 + GST (linked to Aadhaar). Now you can do the math yourself as I am ethically bound not to reveal that.

But Kiran, let me tell you and everyone else who’s watching this, that Mrs. Google is not fat! She is just overweight. And there is a huge, huge difference between being fat and being overweight, especially for women.

Ms. Kiran: I agree. Weight is as sensitive an issue for women as age is, perhaps more so when it is slightly on the higher side. If it is impolite to ask a lady’s age, it is worse to peep into the weighing scale when she’s on it.

Well, you were telling me how Mrs. Google tried to lose weight, and there are some hilarious stories you have about that stint, right? So, tell us about her journey from fit to fat and then trying to be fit again.

Weighing Scale: Kiran, a few years back, Mrs. Google was much thinner. Well, maybe that’s a wrong choice of words. Let me rephrase, a few years ago, Mrs. Google was less overweight.

She used to comfortably wear size 10 and size 12 in some brands. Then things started to change. Currently, 80 per cent of her old clothes do not fit her anymore and this hasn’t changed in the last one year. Yet she clings on to them, hoping to fit into them once again. Someday.

Gradually, things started trending from bad to worse. Buttons started to pop out and large gaping areas were formed in her shirts, showing off what should be hidden. Zips refused to close till the end. And whatever she wore defined every curve, crevice and fold of her body.

She progressively inflated from every corner, angle and side—a 360-degrees all-round expansion. It was hard on both of us.

Ms. Kiran: Oh poor Mrs. Google and poor you too. Then what happened? Did she do anything about it?

Weighing Scale: Yes! So, one day, looking at herself in the full-length mirror, Mrs. Google swore aloud, “Enough is enough! This cannot be happening. I ought to get back into shape.” Immediately, she called her closest buddy, Ms. Kukki, who also suffers from this unfortunate affliction. Both of them decided to meet and discuss the way forward.

Ms. Kiran: Oh goodie! A little teamwork always helps. I’m sure they must have found a way to tackle the issue together.

Weighing Scale: Hah! You must listen to what they did. And don’t ask me how I got all the sordid details. I have my sources inside the house.

So, Ms Kukki arrived in that evening and they hugged and air-kissed like besties. While doing so, both women tried to gauge whose girth was wider. Once they settled down, Mrs. Google ordered the house help to make some adrak–wali chai and pyaaz-aloo bhajiyas as it was raining heavily. Lovely weather like this calls for a little celebration, she reasoned. She also instructed her help to bring along the butter-choco-walnut pound cake that her sister-in-law had brought from Dubai last week.

And it was over tea, bhajiya, cake and namkeen that the ladies discussed their woes and swore to take up an exercise routine ASAP. They chalked out a plan too, starting with brisk walking for 45 minutes and then gradually moving towards the gym, later in the week.

Ms. Kiran: Nice. Things are getting interesting. Then what happened?

Weighing Scale: As she visualised her soon-to-be-svelte figure with child-like glee, Mrs. Google was reminded that all her track pants and tees were either two sizes small or out of fashion. She instantly informed Ms. Kukki about the crisis. And within twenty minutes, both ladies were out to buy new workout clothes.

Seeing Mrs. Google’s dedication towards the new regimen, which was reflected in her eagerness to buy new fitness wear, an inspired Ms. Kukki decided to follow suit. After all, how can Mrs. Google shine away in her new, trendy, branded sportswear, while she lagged behind unnoticed in her three-months-old workout clothes?

After one-and-half hours of repeated trying, changing, selecting and discarding loads of ‘dry fit’ technology-enabled fitness wear, they came out of the mall armed with shiny shopping bags containing two pairs of slim-fit tights with contrasting and matching dry fit tees, neon coloured sport shoes, two pairs of socks, a water sipper, a post-workout windcheater and a gym bag. Mrs. Google and Ms. Kukki were all set to enter the world of fitness like divas!

On the way back, Mrs. Google even ordered a fitness tracker watch online and downloaded two exercise tracking apps on the phone to keep track of her fitness regimen.

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I can’t wait to hear what happened next. Carry on…

Weighing Scale: Kiran sweetie, now I will give you a detailed day-to-day account of how both ladies took on their workout regime. You better sit tight and listen up.

Day 1, 7.00 am: They met at a common point between their houses, all decked up in the shiny new gear. With sweat bands on, a hint of lip gloss for a fresh look and shoes laced up, both started walking briskly and chit-chatted all along. Due to the constant babble and energetic pace, they began to pant within 10 minutes. So, they slowed down to a dawdling stroll and completed the proposed 45 minutes.

Day 2, 7.00 am: The first day had been a great success for them as they managed to complete their walk, irrespective of the speed at which they finished it. Hi-fives were exchanged, and the women patted each other’s back. Motivated, they began day two, again with quick steps and relentless chit-chat. But soon the pace decelerated and, within 500 metres, they were breathless. Meanwhile, they crossed a spot where office goers stopped by to have their chai-sutta-nashta. The whiff of freshly made kachori and vada sambhar made the women go week on their knees. Mrs. Google looked at Ms. Kooki and raised an eyebrow suggestively. Ms. Kooki gestured her affirmation with a meaningful smile. Within five minutes, they were seated on the plastic stools outside the tapree, gorging on hot kachoris and sipping steaming adrak-wali chai.

Day 3, 7.00 am: Two days down, they were exhilarated. After all, they had succeeded in keeping up with the schedule. But already a little bored of simply walking, they decided to enter the society’s gym. Inside, they met several acquaintances and neighbours. The first 10 minutes were spent in casual catching up. However, the ladies made sure to ignore Mrs. Rana, who ate like a horse in all the kitty parties but still managed to look like a French bean (God knows how!). She was the obvious object of their scorn.

After socialising for a while and fixing their hair in the full-length mirrors mounted on the gym walls for a different purpose altogether, the ladies finally managed to drag themselves towards the cardio machines.

Speed: 4

Elevation: Flat

All through the ten minutes of their ‘light’ cardio, they kept cribbing about the bland song choice and the ineffective air-conditioning in the gym.

Calories burned – 38

Finishing their cardio, they sat down huffing and puffing. The gym instructor, a tall, handsome hunk, came over and asked them if they needed any help or if they would like to do some stretching.

Dumbstruck by his hotness and sets of packs that were clearly visible through his tight vest, they couldn’t say ‘no’, even though their legs were wobbly and begged for mercy. Mr. Instructor demonstrated a few basic stretching exercises and flaunted his own muscles. Trying their best to imitate his immaculate moves, they kept falling over in exhaustion and clumsiness. After four whole minutes of awkward stretching, the sweaty ladies found that the instructor was busy with other more dedicated disciples. Making the most of this opportunity, they bolted for the door.

Day 4, 7.00 am: By now, all the muscles of their body, not in the habit of stretching or working out, were sore and hurting. The duo decided to keep it ‘light’ and stick to plain walking. Walk to the tempting tapri. Gorge. And walk back.

Distance covered – 2 km

Calories burned – 70

Calories eaten – 250

Day 5, 7.00 am: Repeat performance of Day 4

Day 6, 6.30 am: As expected, their schedule didn’t last very long. And so, Ms. Kukki called Mrs. Google to inform that she wouldn’t be able to make it that day as it was a weekend and she wanted to sleep till little late. Obviously, Mrs. Google was more than happy to agree. She too receded under the covers and went back to her sweet slumber.

I knew from the very beginning that this wouldn’t last long, monotony would kill it and exercising incessantly would die a natural death.

Day 7: Nobody called anybody. And, as they say, sometimes no news is good news. The unannounced verdict found mutual consent.

The entire exercising routine was soon forgotten as Mrs. Google & Ms. Kukki chose painless mornings over demanding fitness. The whole ‘silly’ idea was thrown out of the window.

Ms. Kiran: Such a sad and tragic ending to a thoroughly amusing story. Did she try other methods of losing weight post this swiftly aborted exercise routine?

Weighing Scale: Well, after coming to terms that exercising was not her cup of tea, she tried her hand at all sorts of diets—starting with a weeklong GM diet, moving on to the low-carb Atkin’s diet, followed by the chhass only diet, then the most obnoxious cabbage soup diet, the much-celebrated vegan diet, keto diet, and even two days of the ‘cotton ball diet’, in which she dipped small balls of fluffy cotton into juices and smoothies and ate them up. Sadly, nothing passed the threshold of the experimentation phase of first few days.

Ms. Kiran: ‘Cotton ball diet’? Gosh, now this is incorrigible. So, did she give it all up finally?

Weighing Scale: Well, Mrs. Google has stopped experimenting with all the bizarre diets. Someone recently suggested to her ‘sniff the food’ technique. She is currently trying her luck with that. Less eating and more sniffing. I wonder how that will pan out for her.

Ms. Kiran: Hmmm… let’s see what that results in. Do keep me posted on that.

So, moving on, let’s play our exciting rapid-fire round. I will ask you a few questions and you have to answer them keeping Mrs. Google in mind. But remember, the replies have to be rapid and, of course, fiery!

Ready? So, here we go…what is Mrs. Google’s weight?

Weighing Scale: 62 + 8 – 40 + 50 – 2

Ms. Kiran: Very well. Tell us about her one secret that even Mr. Planet doesn’t know.

Weighing Scale: She secretly eat chocolates and candies. Mrs. Google stashes them at various covert places, like inside the vegetable compartment of fridge, in the lower most section of her cupboard, unused purses, side table of her bed, behind the spice rack and even in the loo.

Ms. Kiran: What does Mr. Planet say when Mrs. Google asks him if she is looking fat in a particular dress?

Weighing Scale: Oh, he has this one absolutely figured out and well-rehearsed. It’s always a big, compelling ‘NO’. The genuinely surprised and ‘are you kidding’ wala expression on his face is priceless.

Ms. Kiran: Has Mrs. Google ever shared her actual weight with anyone? If so, with whom?

Weighing Scale: Yes. To her doctor, dietician, personal trainer, a sales person for health insurance purposes, and one more sales guy at a bicycle shop, just so that he could give her the precise recommendations. Also, to a ride operator at an amusement park because the ride had to be correctly balanced. But for rest of the world, including Mr. Planet, it is a dark, well-guarded secret.

Ms. Kiran: Share a recent embarrassing incident of hers.

Weighing Scale: Last week, she met a friend after a long time. After shrieks of excitement and cheek-on-cheek air kissing, her friend stepped back and looking at Mrs. Google’s tummy, exclaimed, “Wow, looks like you have some good news there!”

Ms. Kiran: Hahaha! I am sure Mrs. Google wanted to strangle her.

Weighing Scale: You bet! Wait, I got one more. A few days back, she had to stand in a queue at the cash counter of a mall for almost half an hour due to some technical snag in the billing system. So, by the time things got working, she was visibly irritated. The woman behind the desk looked at her upset face and said, “I’m really sorry about your wait.” Without thinking much, courtesy to her bad mood, Mrs. Google snapped back, “You’re not so skinny yourself, madam. Mind you own business, please.” The poor girl did not even try to clarify her intent and resumed work but the ladies standing behind Mrs. Google were in splits. That’s when she realised what the girl had truly meant. She made a quick, embarrassed exit.

Ms. Kiran: OMG! That’s indeed funny.

Okay, tell us five things that make Mrs. Google flip out every time someone mentions in front of her.

Weighing Scale: Hmmm… Yoga, plus size clothing, health food, skinny jeans and people linking her allergies, acne and hair fall to her weight.

Ms. Kiran: If she wakes up as Katrina Kaif, she would….

Weighing Scale: If Mrs. Google wakes up as Katrina, she would go to her office and meet the big boss. She’d ask for a favour, which of course he would undoubtedly grant, she being Katrina for that moment. The favour would be double promotion and a separate cabin for a friend of hers, Mrs. Google.

Ms. Kiran: Haha, that would be a smart thing to do. Thanks a lot for being such a sport. You did very well. Our signature gift hamper, loaded with goodies is on the table next to you.

Now, before you leave, would you like to say something to her through our show?

Weighing Scale: I would like to tell Mrs. Google that although you eat less but you eat wrong. Having some extra weight is not that ‘fat’ an issue as you have made it to be. Being healthy and happy is more important than being thin and sad. So just remember, we all love you for the ‘weigh’ you are!

Next morning, while still in bed, I couldn’t stop laughing at last night’s dream. The incidents shared in it were all factual and indeed hilarious. My husband gave me a puzzled look, seeing me wake up in a happy-but-don’t–know-why state. Inching closer to him swapping my stupid grin with a seductive smile, I whispered, “Do you also love me for the ‘weigh’ I am?”

Perplexed by my unexpectedly amorous mood, barely an hour away from office time, he fumbled, “Of course darling, I love you the ‘way’ you are.”

Ah! If only men could ever understand what woman want (and mean).

My Stuff Speaks 

Author – Sania Siddiqui

Sample Chapter: Koffee with Kiran published first on https://bestbabyinc.tumblr.com