Do you remember that feeling when you were 18, and you weighed 50 kgs, and you could eat anything, from literally any kitchen and not worry about it? I mean, you could consume cast iron and get away with it, or at least it seemed like, not kidding. I remember living on rice for at least two meals a day, add hot samosas from the college canteen almost every day, biriyanis from any place you found, bi-weekly doses of Nagpuri chaat, and every other junk things one can think of, including a large quantity of everything oily, spicy and cheese-y.

At no point, did mother nature or our own mothers warn us, that this is a sweet temporary gift of youth valid only for a few years until we reach the dreaded early twenties, where you will suddenly find yourself puffing like Aunt Marge and your thin-self floating away one fine day.  You will realize that you are eating just the same but for some reason, your body has taken some kind of offense to your love for food. and much like a disgruntled lover, is keeping score of how much and what you are eating. Oh, I hope my mother had warned me about this, about this unexpected way my body would cheat on me and suddenly turn against me. I wish she had told me weight gain is a real thing and there will come a day when slow dancing in my shower will no longer count as exercise.

The early twenties were not that bad, and things only got serious after I hit 25. It was like I was living in someone else’s body. Sure, I love my curves, but when did they appear there in the first place, and why was I not informed? It’s like you look into the mirror one day, and suddenly you have an older sister looking at you. It’s not a great feeling, you guys. Especially, for someone who does not do well with siblings. My brother will vouch for this, I am pretty sure I have scarred his childhood.

Anyways, at first you try to ignore it, all the warning signs, all those distress signals your body gives out. The bloating, the immunity to hangovers, the outright rejection of vodkas, the inner voice that makes you buy Greek yogurt while you scorn at your mother’s homemade curd – all of these emerged here and there and I slowly gave in to the fact that my body and I are both getting older and this is my time to be a good lover for the sake of my body and payback for all those glorious years of guilt-free eating I subjected my body to.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I have found myself gravitating more and more towards the kitchen if not to eat, then to cook, and I do end up eating most things I cook. At this rate, I realize it’s getting more and more essential to find balance in the things I create in my kitchen and in the things I put in my body. I recently found this site called “wake the wolves“. They are definitely worth a check out. They call themselves a team of imperfect designers, lifestylists, & wellness gurus here to wake up your inner wolf so you can eat + live like you matter (because you do). I find them brilliant, and very very inspiring.

The more I cook, I realize how important it is to value each ingredient, understand its relationship with nature, understand what it brings to the table and how our body is gonna absorb it. I am a lot more mindful of what I am eating, what I am cooking, and what am I sourcing as ingredients. By mindful, I do not mean I believe in counting calories, I think its absolutely sad to do that all the time, I just am more aware of what I am eating and what it is going to do to my body and mind. I think our body deserves it, and so do we.

I still believe in eating whatever my heart wants, Biriyani is still the eternal flame to my moth, but I have drastically cut down on going out to eating disappointing biriyanis that are nowhere close to the real deal. I am trying to cook more variants of it in my own kitchen so I at least know what I am eating. Pasta is still my weakness, but I would not go order it from any place that randomly asks me red sauce or white sauce? I am choosing to put my body above a certain craving that is sure to disappoint me taste wise and leave me feeling guilty after. That is what I would call a healthy choice if at all. I have also devised my own ways of forcing myself into creating and consuming healthy food options. The #21days21eggs was an interesting way that kept me very protein high in very creative ways. I also surprised myself with some dishes I never thought I could pull off.

I am currently in the midst of a #21days21smoothies challenge where I am literally forcing myself to consume fruits and some questionable vegetables in the form of a smoothie. I can be really lazy when it comes to eating fruits, and unless you can make a spicy curry out of it, the vegetables often do not get my attention. But smoothies apparently have a way to blend all of this together with a dash of nuts, spices and anything exotic you want to add. People around the world are making so many beautiful things in their kitchen, and it inspires me every day to whip out a  beautiful looking smoothie that I know is not always delicious, but always healthy. The thrill of creating something with your bare hands, every day, something beautiful that your body deserves as much as your mind does.

I hit 28 recently, and I think I am at a point where I am beginning to embrace fitness without being bitchy about it. Mmmm, maybe it’s not such a  bad thing to talk about and think about. It is as if food is my lover and to keep that relationship strong and sexy, I need to visit a slightly grumpy therapist called Fitness, and yes, we have hit a point where we cannot do without one another. 🙂

Now, who is ready to create some stunning smoothies along with me?