As I examined how I've changed over the last few years, 2 things stand out in my mind. My obsession with food, flavors and cooking and my obsession with a healthy life.
There's something about creating the right combination of herbs and spices that makes life worth looking forward to. On days that i'm supremely angry with life or stuck in a moment (and can't get out of it), creating recipes inside my head is what comes to my rescue. And with the oven that some friends gave me for my wedding, I've managed to take what was merely an interest to something of a creative expression. I'm loving it.
And then there's the almost paradoxical love of good health /a fit body. I was lucky enough to have high metabolism and the ability to shake off any calories with incredible ease. Until I turned 28 or 29. And then the kilos started to pile on without me knowing of their existence.
But jeans and sari blouses never lie. It's only when some of my old blouses turned into a snug fit that I realized I'd started to put on weight. It's barely anything because I stand at a good 5'9"and my height masks most of it. Plus I was fairly skinny earlier. So it didn't seem to get any attention. From anyone else, that is.
But, from the moment I realized I've started to put on weight, I've been on the healthiest food regimen my body has ever seen in the last 30 or so years. I've incorporated more fiber into my food, cut out the carbs, started exercising well and cutting out desserts - a tough feat with my sweet tooth. And weirdly enough, my body responds when I treat it well.
My need for fitness borders on an obsession that only P seems to share. In some sense, I'm lucky to live with someone who has the most will power I've ever seen in anyone as far as food is concerned.
It's tough to empathize with - this obsession with health, I know. But without my knowing it, food and it's almost polar opposite (control over what I eat) have both come to define the person I am today.