PMS.

PMS.

I’m supposed to be correcting my students’ papers. I can’t focus. There’s a horrible dull ache right under my tits and it’s driving me nuts. Why’s cyclical mastalgia a real thing? Why do I have to deal with it every month?

Premenstrual syndrome is a nightmare. I know Aunt Flow has almost reached V-town – I’m bloated, craving chocolate at three in the morning and my husband is still out. On a Friday night. That lousy, cheating scum.

I know he’s cheating on me.

I can’t even correct these papers anymore. I want to rip out my hair, all my hair, from the roots. I want to scream bloody banshee screams, and I want to throw boiling hot water over whoever cow he’s shagging at three am on a weekend night. I’m gonna cry.

I definitely know he’s cheating on me.

So he has a piercing in one ear, right? And I got him this little stud to wear and he’s switched it up. I remember him replacing it with one of those guy hoops that f*ckboys wear. Oh, he’s cheating on me. I’m sure some girl gave him this hoop thing. I hate it. I hate the little stones on it. I want to beat her into a unrecognizable pulpy mess. The nerve.

I hate this. I hate being home alone and working. I’m craving chocolate mousse.

I’m just gonna walk to the fridge before my ovaries and my brains split. And awesome, there’s only health crap in there. Who wants a freaking salad at this time of night? UGHHHHHHH.

Oh look, he’s FaceTiming.

Okay, so he’s at work and he’s going to be home in fifteen. Definitely not cheating. Just working. I looked carefully. He’s in office and there’s nobody around. I made him show me around. Poor thing. Must be so hard on him, you know? All of this. This marriage. To this crazy witch.

Twenty-Eight Life Lessons I’ve learned So Far

Twenty-Eight Life Lessons I’ve learned So Far

Skincare.

1. I love tea. Not the kind that you spill. The teabag kind. The teabags also help with dark circles.

2. Tea tree oil helps with bacne. I’m not entirely sure how it works, but oh boy, does it work.

3. Turmeric and yogurt (both organic) mixed in together and applied to the face actually help your skin glow. Turmeric stains, and you shouldn’t do this more than say, twice a week.

4. Nothing beats a good night’s sleep.

5. Aloe vera helps with sunburns and other mild chemical burns. Be sure to remove the toxin first.

6. Never exfoliate too much. You’ll end up removing all the natural oils and you’ll aggravate your skin because of the abrasive actions.

7. Honey and sugar scrubs help flake away the dead skin off your lips.

• Lifestyle.

8. It’s good to detox once in a while. The mental peace you get from not being on your phone is excellent.

9. Keep your circle small. Less unsolicited advice, less drama, a lot more happiness.

10. It’s amazing to be best friends with someone you’re married to. Not only do you have romantic date nights, you also have chill game nights. Woot.

11. Working out on the daily eventually becomes a habit you can’t shake off.

12. Supplements are good – fish oil, whey, all of it – only in moderation.

13. Diets work if you stick to your meal plans like some resilient wart plasters.

14. Too much cardio is actually the worst thing ever.

Religion and politics.

15. Religion and politics are both polarizing topics. It’s best if you actually went ahead and avoided a conversation about either thing.

16. People will be very sensitive to anything you say.

17. Silence is key.

18. But at the same time, the silence of good men is what got us here in the first place.

19. You’re not defined by who you vote – contrary to what Twitter would lead you to believe.

20. The best way to have a life? To try not to sound like you’re picking sides. Again, refer to point number seventeen.

21. God loves you. Doesn’t matter where you go to pray.

Fashion.

22. The stupider the outfit, the trendier it seems to be.

23. High-rise jeans hide everything but also make it look like you have FUPA.

24. Numbing (or hemorrhoid) cream helps prevent new shoe discomfort. A hack I tested out after I heard Deepika Padukone talk about it. It works.

25. You can start your own line. Everyone is doing it.

26. Everything is trendy. Sheer jackets. Turbans. Cultural appropriation that Gucci promoted.

27. Never say cheap. Say “inexpensive”. Clothes and shoes have sentiments too.

28. A red lipstick is a game-changer. Plus, a cool-toned one makes your teeth look whiter than eff.

Spot a Fake Friend 101

Spot a Fake Friend 101

Everyone has that one person who shows up, once in a poisonous blue moon, dramatic to the Gods, smack in the middle of June. More dramatic than Lady Gaga at the 2019 Met Gala. You never hear from this person for months, and one day there’s a text and it says: Hello, balala.

And all hell breaks loose. And it won’t go away despite your repeated shoos.

This person is the Bellami hair extensions to your Kylie Jenner head. This person is the lash extensions to your otherwise bald lash line, which normally looks dead. This person is faker than those fake acrylic nails you hate after two days of having them done. This person is so fake, she could give Kimmy K a run for ten thousand billion. And this person – my fake friend – makes me want to hate rap. She makes me want to rhyme and say crap. And, oh now I can’t stop. Someone please send help and hurry up.

This person won’t ever be happy for you. They’re going to criticize everything you do. Right from your engagement ring to your bridal trousseau, you name it and they’ve got stuff to say – a nasty thing or two. MY person only ever talks about her life, and never ever asks about mine and I wonder why. Now that I put two and two together to compose poetry that actually seems to rhyme – I’ve been figuring out a lot of stuff that doesn’t fully fly.

Your fake friend will make it look like they’re happy for you when they’re really not. Like the time my fake friend called to say she thought my man was way too hot for someone like me who was way too not. My person only ever texts now to let me know that I’m sub par and that I’m not up to the mark. And when I tell her she’s wrong, she plays the victim card. Insert some eye-rolls please, that’s how you spot a fake friend and share this blog post if you love it and if you love cheese.

Good day, people, and I’m so sorry.

I don’t know what this was.

Really just super annoyed.

I could smash someone into a pulp.

How To: Avoid Conversation Killers

How To: Avoid Conversation Killers

How many times have you been told by someone else what you’re supposed to or not supposed to do? Say you’re randomly scrolling through your phone and you get a text from someone telling your new profile photo is making you look “slightly overweight and that you need to be doing yoga” – how do you feel? That’s exactly how you kill a conversation. Before it’s even started.

Here are five basic “Don’t”s to avoid conversation killers:

• Don’t give unsolicited advice.

People that always give unsolicited advice like they’re giving away free water are actually the worst. If you haven’t been asked, don’t say anything. Sure, this is a free planet and you’re allowed to be opinionated, but did your friend ask you for your opinion? No. And when it’s a no, you need to zip it, Skippy. There’s a whole lot of difference between Twitter and real life, just so you know.

• Don’t ask personal questions.

Honestly, it’s none of your business – you don’t need to be going around asking someone if they’re married or why they don’t have kids yet – unless you were someone that wanted to pay for the wedding or the kids’ college fund. Actually, you know what? Don’t you ask personal stuff anyway. It’s personal for a reason, you know?

• Don’t start someone’s day with negativity.

If you have bad news, don’t share it first thing in the morning. Let the other person settle comfortably into their routine and adjust for a little bit. How hard is that? I have people that send me morbid texts by way of good morning and I don’t like waking up to that. They’re always left on read. If you don’t want to be left on read, don’t do this. Simple.

Don’t be too nosy.

Nobody likes to talk to their nosy aunt. And you don’t want to be nosy aunt. People usually share information if and when they feed like it’s needed to be shared. You don’t have to take a bargepole, poke the other person, and annoy them till they cold-shoulder you.

And finally, don’t try to act like they’re your best friends.

Not if they don’t want you to be their best friend.

Are you someone that’s tired of unsolicited advice too? How do you avoid it?

Medical Monday: Ten Things Nobody Tells You About Depression

Medical Monday: Ten Things Nobody Tells You About Depression

I did a bit of a Q and A on my Instagram on Friday, and the results were appalling. Not only are people unaware of so much, they also choose to be driven by bigotry and they won’t change their mindsets. It’s 2019, folks, come on now.

If we can’t talk about mental health openly, NOW, when will we ever? Here are ten facts, from personal experience, that nobody tells you about mental health – specifically about depression.

• It can affect anyone.

Just because someone looks buff and strong and seems to be the epitome of badassery, doesn’t mean they’re not susceptible. Take it from someone who’s been there, seen people and experienced it all, first hand.

I know people that are doing great helping others, serving the community and are amazing – but they have been secretly depressed since forever. And the only thing they find solace in? Their jobs.

It never affects you on the daily, if you stay focused enough.

A genius (insert lethal dosage of sarcasm here) once told me that you can’t be a practicing doctor with depression and anxiety but that’s completely a myth. You can work wherever you like, and you can do whatever you want to do. As long as your depression is under control, and you’re doing something about it, you’re good to go. Just like everyone else you know.

Which brings me to point number three.

• Don’t be afraid to seek help.

If you’re feeling low, and anxious, and if you feel like you’re forgetting how to be happy, and you tell someone about it and you suspect you have depression – GET IT EVALUATED.

Prevention is always better than cure. Which is why, a trip to the counselor’s or therapist’s just to see what’s happening, isn’t going to hurt. If you’re not clinically diagnosed, and if you’re declared as not having any mental health issues, it’s such a relief too, right? Why would you want to waste time debating when you could actually go get a consult?

• Google isn’t your therapist. Google isn’t most certainly qualified to be your doctor.

There are people that go to med school, slog for about a decade and study the subject closely. Google never went to med school and Google never took semester exams – and that is precisely why you need to stop Googling your symptoms.

Depression can creep up on you when you’re not even suspecting it.

There’s a thing called seasonal affective disorder and it actually is a real thing. It’s seasonal, obviously, and is seen in a lot of adults. Abbreviated SAD, it’s precisely what it says it is – it makes you hella sad, and you won’t know what’s wrong with you.

It’s not something you can control, as you can never tell yourself to just snap out of it because that’s not how this guy works. When he drops in, he takes his sweet time. Or she.

• It’s accumulative.

One specific thing won’t cause it. It has to be a series of events. Lemony Snicket would know. So here’s what happens: something plus something again. Plus something more. Plus something else. And a million somethings. All add up. And then boom, you wake up with a stranger in your heart, you feel zapped and you don’t know why. And you don’t know why, because it’s not just one little or one specific thing.

• Yoga and meditation don’t actually help cure it, but can definitely help keep it from blowing up.

Both these things are specifically designed to calm the human mind, body and senses. Letting your feelings stay in a confined spot and letting your emotions not take over your body so bad that you’re on total autopilot, actually does help.

• Do not ASK to start medication till your doctor thinks it’s fit to.

I don’t believe in medication. I’m one of those people that believe in not resorting to last resorts. Which is why I always recommend talking about your feelings to your therapist. There’s a lot a conversation – a heart to heart conversation – can do. When you’re with your therapist, you’re interacting with another human being (in total confidentiality) one on one. The power of human interaction that’s not all about cellphones and Internet, is incredible.

Sweeping problems under the rug isn’t going to help at all.

Let’s say you have some issues and you’ve been paying zero attention to the problem and only been ignoring it because you’re sure you’ll forget about it and it won’t come back – think again. It’ll creep up on you. If you suspect you have it, talk to someone.

There’s no taboo. Nor is there glorification.

I got a direct message from a person who seemed to think that I was glorifying and also stigmatizing mental health problems by talking about in the first place. And it was so offensive to me because people are aware of so little. Why would someone glorify it when they’ve been through it, anyway?

And there’s supposed to be no stigma surrounding it either. It’s a growing problem that’ll just accumulate, like I explained earlier.

Footnote:

This same person expressed concern about people not having the time or resources to go to a doctor and using google as their only option.

Now, if someone has access to Google, they should be well aware of the fact that Government setups (in India, at least) exist for the sole purpose of catering to people and their healthcare needs at a very nominal cost. OPDs won’t charge you any money if you can’t afford it. No doctor is here to extort you, contrary to what you might think.

Speaking of having no time – I wonder what’s more important than your own health? Be it mental or otherwise?

Your Demons, Your Fight

Your Demons, Your Fight

Funny thing is, he never calls back. It could be his fault, but he wouldn’t ever apologize. He finds an excuse to pick fights and never seems to fix things. That’s how he has always been, same old, same old. I think I have a type: I actually think everyone has a type. My type? JERK. 

I’m only nineteen. He’s barely twenty. I agree he has a lot going on. But so do I. What about my feelings? Just because I am still in college, with no serious job, and apparently because I have no aspirations, and my idea of a productive day happens to be editing perfect content for my YouTube channel, that is only three thousand subs strong – does that mean I don’t matter?

I remember reading The Secret and trying with all my might to make us go back to the way things were, almost willing things into normalcy, and I remember giving up. I remember overhearing my foster mama telling my foster dad that she was worried about me because I would spend most of my time shut in my room, uploading guitar covers, reading and waiting for Bryan to come take me out to dinner – until it became too much. But then when you don’t really have anyone and nobody to open up to, you conjure up demons in your head and you let them thrive and grow and you let them take over. And mine are bursting out of every pore in my body. I don’t know how to fight it anymore.

Sometimes I feel like I’m a filler.

I’m temporary. I’m disposable.

Some guys, they always manage to make you feel smaller than the smallest speck of dust.

Some guys, they always break your heart and break your trust.

Girls like me – we are just replaceable.

Ode To This Thankless Job

Ode To This Thankless Job

You self-diagnose and you take meds

You come to me when the disease spreads

You’re terminal and there’s nothing I can do

You have no hope and I’m ridiculed.

Who’s to blame here, you or I?

Who’s to answer these questions why?

When you’re the one that’s Googled your stuff

Because you assumed that it would be enough?

You, who’s not even in the field of science,

You, who’s not up to date with the times

You, who doesn’t know the struggle of med school

You, who still treats me like I were a dumb fool

You, you think it’s okay to bash doctors online

You think bullying is okay, and that it’s fine

You think doctors only want your money

When you know that’s not it, honey.

What about practitioners that treat you for free?

What about Dr. Devi Prasad Shetty?

What about army doctors, Doctors Without Borders?

What about them, do you ever consider?

All you know is how to be a keyboard troll.

All you know is how to let the hatred roll.

You never understand what we go through.

Never a thank you, never a how are you never from you.

Pieces 

Pieces 

Ever had that feeling when you’re extremely into something and you know it’s not going to be in it for the long run? I have. And I know you probably have and I know you know how it feels. 

It’s crazy. 

It’s insane. 

Well. 

It drives you insane. And all forms of it. You want to scream. You want to rip your hair out by the roots. You want to gouge out your eyeballs and never see light again. You want to tear holes in your skin and you know it won’t hurt half as much. I know YOU know. I know you relate. I know it is something but we aren’t alone. That’s the whole purpose of conveying feelings, am I right? You have me and I have you and we have words to keep us all together. Bonded. Talking, talking and more talking, and not just to walls. 
I’ve been extremely happy this whole time. Knowing it won’t last. Knowing it isn’t mine to keep. Knowing I’m only borrowing feelings that should have been someone else’s. How do you look at someone who makes you this happy and be okay with letting them go because you can’t hurt them or their chances at a shot of happiness? That’s right. You just let go. You let go and pretend it never happened. When you’re craving love way too much and someone gives it to you, the whole nine yards, the whole package, the whole shebang but they come with conditions and they come with clauses, what do you do?

Tell me. 

#TBT – Med School Crushes, Chapter 4: The Last Leg

#TBT – Med School Crushes, Chapter 4: The Last Leg

India is in a state of reckless frenzy tonight. Everyone is glued to their TV screens, some happy, some upset, some seething, some stunned. In another part of the world, a friend is graduating. That’s happy news. Right? I cannot bring myself to post something that’s preachy or opinionated – at least not today – which is why, I’m going to talk about the last leg of my med-school crush saga.

I actually have two stories to share. I know I could have done a five-part series but I wanted to combine both the stories I’m going to tell you today. Both incidents (for the lack of a better word) happened within a couple months of each other, and both were hilarious and the said crushes were super aware so we have ZERO secrets here. And, well, here goes nothing.

I was an intern, and I was very much in a committed relationship, which literally means that I was probably cheating. But a friend told me it was okay to crush on people and that it was okay to update the crush list on the daily provided you weren’t actually cheating on your man. Look but don’t touch. Window shop but don’t make any purchases. You already have a man, remember that. So yes. There they were. Super healthy, super innocent crush saga, parts four and five.

The first time I went for my surgery rotation, I was the only intern for the first two weeks. The residents were nice and friendly. Both my residents never hesitated to help out when I was stuck with a problem. So it was all fun and games. And then another resident came along. He was kinda tiny, but jeez, he was hella cute. Not like a beautiful Roman God kind of cute, just happened to be somebody with a mega cute personality. I think I was crushing more on his whole vibe than him, the actual person. Let’s call him Scrubs. He was scruffy, but he looked nice with that kinda stubble and always talked about fitness. I was just getting into it and became super intrigued. MY resident was best friends with Scrubs and found out about my little crush one day. And he snickered evilly and decided to go rat me out. At this point, we had more interns join us and it was all a happy doctor party. BUT, everyone would tease me all the time. And at some point I literally un-crushed. This one ended really well, though . We became friends. And I don’t feel awkward, so hallelujah.

The last ever crush of my life, apart from my own man, would have to be this orthopedic resident we shall call The Hulk. He was a super nice dude. Super well-behaved and I had this HUGE crush on his wardrobe. Seriously, I kid you not, but I’ve never seen doctors that dress half as good. And his muscles – they were so phenomenal, and rippling, you’d need RM Drake on speed dial because those things need poetry. And background hoedown music. Billy Ray, give me a call, please? Thank you.

Guys, this is a well-known observation – a man that looks and smells good is someone that is always going to get those brownie points. Hash, and regular. Both. With icing, with whipped cream, with chocolate syrup, with ice-cream – you name it. All of it. All the brownie points and the add-ons. This guy deserves all those freaking praise-calories. Yes sir. This was something that again, ended really well because orthopedic surgeons are people I need to stay in touch with at all times (I’m a walking catastrophe) and the guy has become a friend to me.

That concludes my epic med school crush series. Thank you for sticking with me, and reading and laughing along with me. I had a ton of fun telling you about all of it. And if my man is reading this – baby, you know I love you best. And your biceps are going to have amazing music as background score done by maybe The Weeknd and poetry written by Sherman Alexie. Don’t be mad and don’t share this post with my darling momma or my momma in law. Bye.

Making Love To You 

Making Love To You 

Ever seen people get high on marijuana? They seem to be in a trance. They also can’t seem to have enough. 

That’s pretty much what it feels like, being with you. There’s this constant craving. This constant need to be close to you. This deep-rooted, insatiable thirst. This inexplicable feeling. I’ve never known my body would ever respond this way. I didn’t know emotions like this even existed. I didn’t know so much, until you. 

You make me want to do things I’ve never imagined myself doing. Like making you breakfast, for instance. I was the kind of woman that didn’t want to settle, but you make me want to kind of have an army of children. All miniature versions of you, brown-eyed, freckly, dimpled, even-toothed. All of them soft-spoken, kind, loving. 

Oh, how I love you! 

Everything about you is beautiful. Those hands. Those eyes. Everything you do, and everything you say. The way you hold me and the way you hold a conversation. When we make love, it’s like every love song come to life. It’s like seeing sounds and hearing colors, it’s as intense, it’s just as magical as that high people say they get when smoking up. Only this kind of high comes with zero side effects.  And all of this makes me wish it lasted forever. You know? I don’t like being the one that gets thrown out unceremoniously after you’re done with her. I don’t like being scheduled for calls. I don’t like you turning away from me, while I lie there, naked and ashamed. And look at the ceiling and the fan wishing I were up there hanging from a noose. Just so I didn’t have to watch you turn away from me and talk to her on the phone. If she was all you needed, you shouldn’t have fucked me over. That’s not love anymore what you feel for her – because if it were, nothing would have shaken you. Remember how distance makes the heart grow fonder? 

You’ve never loved me and I’m okay with that. But did you love the other woman either? 

(Found this in my drafts and decided to post it. My Gosh. This is way out of my comfort zone.)