All my wonderful days of eating & drinking & making merry are taking a well deserved break if not totally over (I hope not). Mother nature decided to tell me that there is no such thing as always being the King of good times. Besides my fanatsy world it happens only on TV. So when my wiser half, my beautiful muse Chhamak Challo observed that I had lost seven kilograms while paying obesiance to Bacchus followed by the curries that Supriya grudges me, she marched me off to a pathology lab. I turned out to be Medical Resident's dream. All the counts would have done Late Sir Edmund Hilary proud. They had all climbed unheard of peaks. Mr Pancreas had decided that I shall be sweeter to the fair wenches than ever before and to help me in doing that instead of considerable shots of Glenmorangie I now freak out on Insulin twice a day. Mr Liver had decided to gain weight and girth but is getting back to shape now. Mr Heart was also fnding it hectic to keep pace with my speed of indulgence. Both these guys are behaving themselves now as I have put them in their proper place. But I have had enough of being betrayed by my own flesh & blood. The loss of the next 7 kgs was entirely my own doing. I found this reallly pretty & passionate (about her work, silly) dietician in Fortis Hospital who made me this fantastic diet plan. I am now on very intimate terms with various vegetables. The curries of yore are beginning to become a bit of a dream. Before you burst into tears let me assure you that I am still me. Every twenty days or so I eat whatever I like (nothing sweet though) but that evening its an extra ten minutes of exercise.
Pegbaazi I don't do now but fear not, the bar is still stocked and open and no one is turned away from my door thirsty. Thou shall imbibe and the pleasure shall be all mine.And I still cook for others and I am loving it.
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