Death by granola..

Sprawled out on bed.

Eating second bowl of granola.

It’s my favourite time of the day – a little bonding time with Alexander Skarsgard, while he attempts to woo Sookie (which BTW is such a daddy-issue name!) in True Blood. It suddenly dawns on me that she is a Southern Belle, which essentially means that she downs butter as if it were free tequila at student night. Yet, she still manages to prevent her thighs from rubbing together on a hot, Summers day? Go figure. 

There may be a sinister reason as to why the word DIET contains the word DIE. A sadistic ploy to kill us with lettuce leaves and rice cakes? Perhaps. Is anyone ever content with the body that God (and that 3^rdMcFlurry) has forced upon us? No. Hell no. Sadly, slimming down typically translates to cutting back on food that feeds our souls – there has to be a reasonable explanation behind the name ‘Happy Meal’, right? 

The best advice that a FF (Former Fatty) such as myself can offer? There is NO miracle gel or pill that is going to turn you into Heidi Klum, so I suggest that you sweat out the lipids and watch what you eat. It’s easy  for me to say that you’re going to reject that yummy looking red velvet cupcake sitting on the kitchen counter, but you probably aren’t.

 I’ve been through the agonising warfare fought between 'gluttony' and 'I-can’t-fit-into-my-jeans'. This is often a 'no-win' situation that would force any dieter to check into a psyche ward ASAP! It’s a torturous conflict which usually results in: a) Guilt  or  b) A fridge raid at midnight to curb those cravings. Depriving yourself of life’s little pleasures is just not worth the effort, so it’s important to find easy food swaps that will satisfy your cravings, without compromising the size of your 'lil derrière.

·         Start the day off with a huge breakfast - your metabolism (and mind) needs to reset itself after all those nightmares of Snooki running for president. Oatmeal made with fat-free milk, vanilla essence, a few raisins and almond flakes is my ideal way to start of the day. Top it with cinnamon for an extra dose of flavour, which also lowers your blood glucose level. Fewer cravings = a speedy slim down!

·         A whole-wheat pita, topped with fat-free cottage cheese, veggies and hot sauce (speeds up you metabolism!) is the perfect way to fake a pizza. Trust me on this one!

·         My name is Mayuri and I-am-a-popcorn-addict. The only flawed aspect of this is that I usually buy a large box at the movies, refuse to share and proceed to stuff my face like that guy on Diners, Dives and Drive Ins. Movie popcorn usually has as many kilojoules as a cheeseburger, and enough fat to send your arteries into shock. NOT COOL. My tip? Buy a kids size box, or sneak in your own snacks.

·         I’m the biggest advocate for not drinking your kilojoules, but it’s cold and I need a hot drink. Too much sugar, and too much fat makes Mayuri’s waistline throw a tantrum, so I suggest going for  Cadbury Hi-Lights is my favourite Winter warm-up – it has half the sugar as regular hot chocolate AND far less fat!

·         “Let them eat cake” – Yes, please, with extra icing on the side! I have been named and shamed as a sugar addict by my family, and I don’t mind discussing my personal relationship with the satisfying sweet stuff. I’ll never reject a luscious looking slice of cake, especially when it sends me on a one-way trip down my very own yellow brick road. Ever. So, I’ve found a few recipes that cut down on kilojoules, but still manage to let me succumb to a food coma.  

Beetroot choc cake                                   Skinny choc cookies

Skinny red velvet cupcakes                Low-fat banana bread
Fudgy Choc pudding                      Lighter cheesecake!

Call Me Maybe...

Once upon a time, there lived an attractive, intelligent and innocent young girl. This was no ordinary lass - she was as wise as she was fair; and her good sense seemed to keep her heart from falling prey to the grand gestures favoured by the male species of her time. Yes, she was the exception to the rule. This young woman knew how the story usually panned out: A not-so-ugly boy (in pants that were way too tight) would confess his undying lust for the foolish lass, commonly followed by the classic wooing technique - he would rip out a weed or two from the neighbour’s garden, and pass them off as symbols of his love and commitment. The Mr Darcy wannabe would proceed to shred her ego and cardiac system into a million minute pieces. The end.
 

Okay, so the dreamy Disney tale might not go this way, but life has a way of  taking a not-so-fun detour every now and then. Boys are usually too much work, too hard to maintain, and sadly our brain cells don’t always seem to filter through the heart-breakers. Today's typical 20-something will most likely refrain from getting her palm felt up, preferring a weekly rendezvous session with a close pal.

I blame dear old liquid confidence for creating the illusion that ‘friends with benefits’ will work, and that you will still be friends once the spark has died (or at least until that bottle of vodka has reached its end). We seem to have made the transition from faux love letters proclaiming our undying love for the boy-next-door, to drunken scribbles declaring “Call me maybe” across a paper towel. Most of this 'hoo-ha' can be attributed to the fact that our fears have started to outweigh any ounce of left-over romance that we might have had from the era of “Nobody puts Baby in the corner”.

Have we abandoned all delusions of romance in favour of something a little less painful, and a whole lot safer? Love. Amore. Liebe. A language of Cupid’s arrows, lust and throbbing hearts. Sure, it has its benefits.  An infamous number of car doors and heart-shaped candy boxes have been bought under the presumption of ‘I got you babe’. Why would any sane female leave all these perks behind, and favour a pseudo-corpse who will be out that door before the drool from your mouth has barely dried? The textbook answer seems to be that we are scared. Frightened. In fact, we are downright terrified of caring about someone who might not feel the same. 

Most women need to have the upper hand in a relationship, which usually results in the desire to ‘leave before we are left’. Unrequited adoration has haunted the feminine mind for eons, and frequently forces us to play the dating game far too casually. The roles have reversed; we have absorbed every single rule that rom-coms have taught us: Be the exception and NOT the rule. How?

Play it dirty. Mess with his psyche. Don’t call him back. Don’t fall for his one-liners AND never, ever leave your toothbrush at his place! 

The gloomy part of all of this is that we may one day say NO to someone who is so obviously a YES. So, my dear feminists, I urge you to think twice before you pretend to not care about that dear boy who wants to wine, dine and cuddle the life out of you. He might actually like you - and you might be more than just a game to him.