…gymee gymee gymee, aaja aaja aaja – A lower scale than the earlier one..no, the one lower than that..nope, a little higher than that..no, the one in between….aah! forget it…you can never become a bathroom singer!….I am sorry, I have to come to your bathroom..er, to your house to teach you..please make sure there’s no water problem, and the geyser is working fine..winter’s coming soon you see, and I cannot take a risk with my voice..
Anyways, I have been hearing this song for quite sometime now..ever since, the Wrangler jeans I had bought around 5 years back, refused to fit me anymore. I had to wrangle my way and my waist out of it. Please dont get alarmed, especially the pretty ones reading my blog – rest assured, you can still give me a kiss on the cheeks, without having to settle for an air-borne one, but then, the jeans really got me thinking.
No, not about buying a new one, but about the peripherals, if you know what I mean!
But before this song got into my head, there were certain incidents which seemed like ominous signals being sent out by Bappi Lahiri!!
I once caused a traffic jam, because I was stuck half in/half out. Some idiot at the end of the jam was overheard saying, that there’s a bull stuck in a manhole and it would refuse to come out! All bullshit! Btw, I wonder why is it called “manhole”? Whoever coined it must have been an a**hole!!
Anyways, this had sowed the seeds of concern but I was still hopeful, because the girl I was eyeing whilst walking on the road actualy smiled back at me. I swear on the bull’s ass, she did! Little did I know, she had already seen what I didn’t…:(…
Then again, I had gone to one of the shopping malls in Mumbai to buy myself a jeans. I was parading in and out of the trial room with pairs of a lower waist size than mine. And everytime I would stay in, trying out the jeans, I would let out cries similar to the ones we’ve heard from Monica Seles (on the tennis court, i,e).
Needless to say, such cries would obviously raise eyebrows, and god knows what else!
Seeing my predicament, the floor manager, came upto me, adjusted his trousers which were falling way below the horizon, and asked me politely, “sir may I help you..?”
(I mopped the sweat off my brow and gave a sheepish grin,) “No, its ok, I am just trying out a few sizes which are of lesser size than mine..”
(One hand on the belt of his pants, with a no-nonsense expression on his face) “May I enquire why…?”
(I let out a confident smile) “Ah, I am just trying to motivate myself to lose weight..thats all..sounds funny isnt it?..but trust me, it works..I think you too should join me, especially with the tiers you have. I assure you, it wont be tiring at all.”
(With a deadpan face) “Sir, whether you try to motivate or mota-weight yourself, these jeans wont fit you because you are trying it in the slim-fit jeans section. Please try out our latest range – it’s called, “the wait is over””
(I didn’t have the stomach for this insult – I glared at him) “Aapko pataa nahin, meri paunch bahut door door tak hai!” – I bellowed!
(He had a stupid smile on his face) ” Woh to main dekh hi raha hoon sir..”
Seeing me grow red, he hurriedly clarified that there was no pun intended in what he’d said earlier on. But I had had enough!! Even before he could show me the jeans, with one swipe of the hand, I pulled out his belt and ran out of the mall – I showed him my pahunch that day!!
That was the day I vowed, I would return to the slim-fit jeans section and wear one without letting out a cry!
I joined my office gym, and ever since I ran on the treadmill, there’s been no looking back! (Actually, its a little difficult looking back while running on it, but we’ll let it pass – its an emotional scene here, understand pliss!)
I changed my attitude, outlook, routine, and most importantly my diet, in my effort to become that well-toned body you see in the Kamasutra ad…yes, the body of the guy, of course!…oh God!..please go away..please!…
No, on second thoughts, please dont…not many people come here anyways..its ok…
So, that was how I started listening to that song – gymee, gymee…etc. Very often the lure of the lullaby “so jaa, so jaa” would sound more pronounced than this one, especially in the wee hours of the morning. But I have managed to excercise..er, exorcise my demons.
I am still a long way, in inches, i.e, from getting into that Wrangler, but I shall get there someday. As Al Pacino had famously said in “Every Given Sunday” – “Life’s all games and inches..”, I have realised I would have to sweat it out for every inch I need to lose. And I swear on that floor manager’s belt, which I still have, I shall do it!
P.S : All characters and incidents, except the bull, are purely fictional, and any resemblance to anybody living or dead is purely intentional..err, coincidental.
P.S again :This blog is not meant to show any disrespect to the “healthier” people out there.
P.S again again: I wonder why people go on a diet and exercise when they go to the gym-khana. You are supposed to eat there isnt it?..hmm, food for thought..