What I did in 2016

Unemployment: I became unemployed on the first day of 2016, and I figured I would use the break to figure what the hell I wanted to do exactly and focus on prepping for an exam I was due to take in June.

Exams: I cleared the exam I worked hard on for the first five months of 2016 – and with very good results might I add – and also got some tuition money back in the process which for my soon-to-be broke self was a big deal. Extra saving/spending money? I’ll take it, thank you very much.

Gym & working out: I started going to the gym for the first time in my life and it was perfect until the only ladies’ gym in my area decided to close down. I’m naturally slim so my goal wasn’t weight but strength and although some days I loathed it, I became aware of the changes working out regularly did to my state of mind and body.

Hair experimentation: I got my hair colored for the first time in my life earlier this year and I liked it but I’m not sure if I’ll keep doing it. Probably not. Last month I chopped off hair I had been growing religiously for the past two years and finally felt like myself in a long time.

Volunteering: I volunteered at a training center for children with special needs for a couple of days and I was humbled by how the kids there, despite their challenges, are so ready to take on life. Definitely want to do more next year.

Weddings: Sure, I’ve attended weddings where the brides have been younger than me, but this time the wedding was of a very close younger cousin of mine, so it was definitely weird with a pinch of melancholia and a whole lot of fun.

Awkward meetings: Speaking of weddings, I had my first ever (and last) ‘boy’s parents meet girl’ meeting and it was the most awkward thing I had to do this year and needless to say, a disaster.

Books & reading: I read about 30 books in the second half of 2016. I don’t think I read any in the first half and being unemployed was a boon in a way because I had never before gotten so much time to just read and reflect.

Dancing: Learnt some choreo, had some fun.

Skateboarding: I’ve wanted to learn to skate for a while now and this year I finally got myself a skateboard and found out that I love skating on it. Tricks next year? Who knows, the future is wild.

Blogging again: Much less frequently than I would like to, but something is always better than nothing.

Studying again: I started studying again for my next level of exams. Good thing I actually like absorbing information into my brain because there is quite a bit to take in.

New job: I got a job in a company I’ve always had a lot of respect for and although the position is temporary, I’m looking forward to learning new things and meeting new people.

Ermm..that’s all I can think of, for now.

For me personally, 2016 was a year of self-doubt, self inflicted misery  and settling for less and the world around me hasn’t done all that well either. I’m creating a vision board to get my shit together in 2017 and I hope the world around me does as well.

Here’s to a healthy, happy & productive new year. Cheers!

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“Take my seat..” – AWKWARD MONDAYS #1

An actual conversation witnessed by my sister when she was in the Dubai Metro on her way to work. As is usual during the time, the metro was quite packed and a woman who was sitting in one of the seats looked at the woman standing next to her and offered her, her seat.

Lady 1: “You can have my seat, please sit”.

Lady 2: “No, it’s fine, but thank you.”

Lady 1: “No, I insist, please take my seat, I’m getting off soon anyway.”

Lady 2, quite charmed, thanks her and proceeds to sit down.

Lady 2: “Are you getting down at the next station?”

Lady 1 tells her she’s getting off at the 5th or the 6th station from there. 

Lady 2: “Oh, I thought you would be getting off soon. You needn’t have offered me your seat!”

Lady 1: “Come on now, how can I sit while you’re standing up. How far along are you?”

Lady 2: “Far along? I don’t understand.”

Lady 1: “…Your pregnancy of course. I gathered so from your belly.”

Long awkward pause.

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Lady 2: “..No, I’m not..pregnant.”

Now if I were Lady 1, now is the moment I would have mumbled a sincere apology – “..sorry I thought your fat was your baby..?” and waited for the train floor to open up and the metro rails to swallow me up whole but no, Lady 1 keeps talking.

Lady 1: “Oh, but your tummy..it was looking quite big and pregnant-y, so I assumed you know, hehe, that umm.. you were carrying.”

Lady 2: “No no, it’s fine. I suppose it does look that way.”

Lady 1: “Yeah, how does it look so pregnant-like..”

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Talk about a derailed conversation.

Almost like Lady 2 had some sort of (loco)motive.

OK, I’ll stop before I get way off track here. Trains of thought, anybody?

Happy (and not awkward, I hope) Monday!

SAY CHEESE!

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                                                                      “I’m faking it? No you’re faking it!”

I hate taking photographs. Like legit, if someone put a gun to my head and asked me to smile for the camera and told me he would let me go if I smiled nicely, search for me with a gunshot wound in a dump somewhere.

I guess that’s not funny.

Oh well. Take two.

I wouldn’t say anti-photogenicism (yeah, that’s a word – look it up) runs in the family because my elder sister photographs like a dream. My brother on the other hand – you know those kids who smiled for the camera and then when you looked at the photos, they looked like they were in intense pain? – yeah, he was/(is?) one of those kids.

And don’t even get me started on my brace face years. Today when I look back at my final-year school pictures, I can feel the pain oozing out of the photos by the sheer effort it took me to smile trying to show as little metal as physically possible without ending up looking like someone punched me in the balls (I don’t have any.. not because someone punched it into oblivion.. but because I am a woman) right before taking the photograph.

I studied in a weird school where we didn’t have yearly class photographs taken. And for that, I’m forever grateful.

Now imagine this person (as in..me) being asked to have a good picture taken to be sent for suitable-match “hunting”? Like Tinder, but instead of an app, you have middle aged uncles/aunties sending around your photos and sending you photos of ‘nice boys’ back. And if you’re interested, more details follow. And instead of hooking up, the swiping right results in marriage. No big deal.

bye-bitch

Excuse me while I go off screaming into the sunset. Alone.

LET IT RIP!

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Courtesy: http://themetapicture.com/waxing-your-legs/

So I’m at that stage in life where I’m just getting into terms with being a lady and the nuances that come along with it. For starters, I wish I had more make-upy stuff. I’m tired of 14 year old make up ‘gurus’ on YouTube admonishing me because I cannot contour like a Kardashian.

Contour – pretty word though.

ANYWAY, this post is not about that. This post is about waxing.

Usually I get my hands waxed from the salon, or my sister does it for me. But yesterday I thought, hey this looks quite simple, I can do it myself. (Translate to sister refused to, even after hordes and hordes of begging)

BIG MISTAKE.

What followed was an utter chaos of human hands, wax, clothes and angry furniture.

This is what went down.

“How hard could it be?!”, I thought, holding the wax jar. Heat the wax to a temperature close enough to burn your hands, take the stick like thing, dip it in the wax, take it out, whoops, just dripped a bit on my pants no problem-o, alright, just carefully (ah hot hot hot!) smear in the direction of hair growth. Now take the wax strip, pat it nice and smooth on the arm and pull in the direction opposite to the hair growth…ok nice and slow… pat pat pat, and LET IT RIP!

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WHAT THE FAAACK.

OUCH.

Apparently that wasn’t quite opposite to the direction of the hair growth – and things get QUITE MESSY when that happens.

I ended up with hands with half of the hair still on them (at one point, I even contemplated leaving one arm un-waxed), oh and also, mean looking red spots. Not to mention, table cloth from which I could literally have scrapped off enough wax for my next self inflicted torture session. Umm, the floor too. Remind me again why I thought this would be easy in the first place?

At least my niece got a kick out of watching the entire scene.

Lesson learnt: WHEN IN DOUBT, ALWAYS GO TO THE SALON.