About the connection between bigger boobs and opening the legs

Been a long while I blogged. But to my surprise, I see 20-something boys are my latest audience. So, this post is dedicated to you all (as the title would have taken care of!)

So, I turned 30 last week (sorry boys, but its true.)

Life looks just about the same…just that the boobs look bigger (there u go boys, paisa vasool!)

On the bigger boobs note, since yesterday and all days in recent past when I have worn snug tops, I have a new found respect for the D size women who have been there for a longer time.

Went to a nearby mall yesterday wearing a ‘clingy thingy’ and at various points of time, I wanted to dig a hole in the ground and bury myself in it. It is unbearable - the undiluted lecherous stare.

So, I guess I will have to stick to middle-aged women attire of kurtas/kurta like thingys till I get them boobs to look more like a part of my body than extraterrestrial object of desire which people can stare holes into.

So, to attain this next to impossible goal and ....ahem…also to get all other fat to melt…I joined aerobics classes in my new apartments. These classes are more sort of a hyperactive kitty party sessions than exercise. A few highlights:

• The instructor dresses in formal shoes, jeans and a full-sleeved shirt – I have no idea why, especially because his full time job is to teach aerobics and dance.
• Apart from straining your muscles, you have to precariously avoid stepping on children because most women get their 2-4 year old children in the class. It gets me pretty mad at times. To make matters worse a certain 3 year old girl comes and hugs my butts – and looks up to smile at me. I just smile back and have to politely wriggle out of the ‘butt-hug’ to continue – which completely throws me off track from the routine.
• The participants (read overweight mothers of 2-4 year olds) decide what and how much they want to work out instead of vice-versa. If the instructor tries to be a least bit pushy, they let shout at him. Then, the instructor apologises and continues with a less stressful exercise.
• We exercise with the AC on. Or the instructor gets an earful from ‘the madems’ as one of them pants and yells ‘oooh…its so hot. I am sweating so much’ to which I so want to yell back “WELL…THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF IT…YOU (fellow) FAT ASS!
• The instructions of the instructors sound either obscene or funny. Sample these:
  “Wopen your legs, madem” “More wopen, more wopen”
  “Lie down, wopen legs. Stay there oni, I will come.”
  “Do it pukka”
  (took me two weeks to figure 'pukka' means 'properly'!)
• Not to miss the music on which we do the aerobics:
  
  “Cant get you out of my head” – Kylie Minogue
  “Its raining men” – Geri Halliwell
  “Slave” – Britney Spears

ONLY these three and it has been almost 2 months. I think I will kill someone if I hear ‘Naa..naa..naaa..nnaa’ from ‘Cant get you out…’.

Despite all this, I hope I will achieve what I have set out for. … hopefully, I will succeed..ONE DAY! **Sigh**