Dear Cheat Day

Dear Cheat Day

I’m pretty consistent with my diet, and I haven’t had sugar in almost two years. That being said, I do give myself a cheat day – every Sunday – so my body can chill for a while.

I don’t eat sugar on cheat days, because I don’t want to overdo things. This used to make me cranky as heck when I first started, eventually getting used to it. BUT, with all that being said, I guess everyone has a breaking point. *insert hysterical laughter here*

Krispy Kreme kiosks need to be made illegal at airports. Even if they have to set up shop, it needs to be as far away from the boarding gates as possible. For someone that the reaches airport and checks in super early because of the impending rush, self-control becomes a ginormous issue.

You haven’t had a donut in two years, I told myself, and you can control this six am craving.

So I passed by the kiosk once. Successfully. Did that a second time. Gave up and got myself a Belgian donut thingy, new on the menu, and the guy actually laughed at me. I think I wolfed it down in a minute. Or even less than. It’s been four hours since I had all that sugar and I’m actually super happy. Reporting zero traces of crankiness on the horizon, viability almost at a hundred percent, we are in for a sunny day in my head, irrespective of the actual weather outside.

The point* I’m trying to make here is:

• It’s okay to have a cheat day, and one tiny cheat meal, as long as you’re doing it in moderation.

Ensure that you don’t deny your body and at the same time, don’t overfeed yourself. Most of us have done that at some point, only to have regretted later.

• Sugar ages you faster, so refrain from too much of it. Only have it if you must. Like I needed the donut after a two year break. It was heaven.

• Hydrate. Apple cider vinegar in water actually kills the attack of the “munchies”, and it’s so effective. Tried and tested.

• Make sure you go back to your normal routine after you’ve cheated. So important.

*points. I realize I just listed out five of those. It’s okay. We all know I cannot resist a good listicle.

Have an amazing start to the week, folks!

Redefining Medical Terms…

Redefining Medical Terms…

I just realized it would be terribly funny to define medical words in terms of human relationships. So here goes, I’m going to try and include each letter of the English alphabet.

1. Aneurysm.

Stress that you experience when your mother in law is bossing you around and you’re forced to play cool, but you’re dying on the inside.

2. Bipolar disorder.

When your relationship with your man doesn’t know where the fuck it’s going. Peachy one day, rotten peaches the next.

3. Constipation.

Being forced into texting someone.

4. Debridement.

The act of gently scraping your partner off of your back because they’ve gotten too clingy.

5. Embolism.

You having casual sex and then ending up stuck with his baby.

6. Farsightedness.

Your inability to spot your cheating partner who’s boning your best friend right under your nose.

7. Gluteus Maximus.

Your overly curvy and irresistibly hot front desk receptionist.

8. Halitosis.

The bitter taste your ex left behind in your mouth. And which still reeks of *bleep and a half*.

9. Ibuprofen.

Your new rebound after your severe heartache.

10. Jaundice.

Wearing the wrong shade of foundation.

11. Knee Jerk Reflex.

The way your react instinctively when there are gold-diggers around.

12. Labia Majora.

A component of the classic modern day love letter. Also called “show vagene”.

13. Menstrual cramp.

Recurring texts from the old summer fling from your teenage years.

14. Narcolepsy.

Your partner’s reaction to your lovemaking skills.

15. Oligospermia.

The number of successful dates you’ve had your whole life.

16. Pineal gland.

Your know-it-all soccer wife. Beats google any day.

17. Quarantine.

The trial period you put someone in, to see if they’re viable to be in a relationship with you.

18. Roth’s Spots.

That one text on your partner’s phone which you shouldn’t be ignoring because it could be the underlying cause of something majorly serious – like side bitchery.

19. Sarcoma.

Every toxic relationship ever.

20. Tetanus.

The lock jaw situation you face once you’re caught cheating and have no valid explanation for your actions.

21. Uvula.

Your supportive partner that prevents you from regurgitating on your way to a successful entrepreneurship.

22. Vas deferens.

Your partner’s super attractive male colleague with the oh-so-amazing pecs – someone who makes you doubt your masculinity while making you feel incredibly insecure.

23. Warfarin.

Marriage counseling when your marriage is stuck in a rocky phase.

24. Xylitol.

Your neighbor with the boob job whose demeanor is extra sweet and also, slightly suspicion arousing.

25. Yersinia pestis.

That one pervert colleague you avoid like fuck.

26. Zygote.

Fruits of your labor. Your startup. Or book. Or anything. Which you nurture like crazy.

I hope you enjoyed this post. Meanwhile, don’t give me a black eye.

10 Things Doctors Are NOT Supposed to Do

10 Things Doctors Are NOT Supposed to Do

I had no idea I was some breed called a “second-generation if random doctors”: the Internet has a lot of opinions and it seems to know you better than you even know yourself. A little disclaimer here, before I begin – I’ve had problems with hyper-pigmentation. There’s a huge birthmark on my right cheek, which is in fact SO BAD, that during my internship at the dermatology department back in the day my professor thought it would be cool to humiliate my face and call it “splotchy” and in need of a makeover because the birthmark was so obvious. I’m not kidding. I know this is workplace harassment and I should have talked to someone – but it’s also India and no one listens. He would regularly poke fun of my face till the day I stopped going to his clinic to work under him anymore. I’ve worn makeup regularly – everyday since – to hide the birthmark because I’m so ashamed of it.

People will break you. Sometimes you have to pretend to be strong, right? I’m not asking for sympathy. I only need someone to listen to my side of the story. Recently, some anonymous user has been bullying me from several accounts, trying to get me to go away. I did that once when I was weak but now I don’t let it bother me too much. I mean, it’s still obviously bothering me since I’ve come on here to talk about it but here we go – a list of ten things that Anonymous thinks doctors shouldn’t do:

1. Make career switches.

I’ve been talking about going into full time makeup artistry and most of you know that. Apparently, I’m disgracing the noble profession of being a doctor by taking up something else instead. I had no idea I was capable of single-handedly destroying reputation. Sigh.

2. Have an opinion.

Everyone is allowed to have an opinion, except doctors. Why? Because we are slaves and we’re only meant to slog.

3. Wear makeup.

Makeup-shaming is still a trend guys, yes, even in 2018. Doctors apparently don’t wear makeup in India because that doesn’t look decent. I thought decency had nothing to do with covering up your blemishes or accentuating your cheekbones. But here we are – turns out I’m wrong. There’s always a mold that you’re supposed to fit in to, but a simple Google search will tell you otherwise. Take a look at Dr. Nill Tavangar.

4. Unfinished residency.

It’s a rat race and every doctor ever is meant to push through till they die. That’s how it is supposed to be. I didn’t know that.

5. Have mental stress issues.

If you’re a doctor and you have issues related to depression and anxiety, you’re not normal. You’re an abnormal freak who seeks attention and needs to die.

6. Be nice.

You’re supposed to carry a Holier Than Thou attitude like a scepter and strike everyone dead because nice doesn’t do anything positive for your career. I did not know that either.

7. Marry someone who’s NOT a doctor.

I don’t understand India and her obsession with doctors. If your kid is one, you’ve to throw her into a pool of other single doctors so she can find a someone with an FRCS degree and millions, and get married and produce doctor children, doctor grandchildren and doctor great grandchildren. Um, okay.

8. Socialize.

If you’re a doctor and you’re socializing, God bless your soul because you’re now a whore.

9. Have a side business.

This is such a big no no. You’re. A. Freaking. Doctor. Where do you find time to manage so many things at the same time?! Go back to your clinic and examine fistulas because that’s what you’re meant to do, you’re not meant to have a blog or run a restaurant or travel places – you can’t. It is not something decent doctors do.

10. Have a life.

You can’t have a life. Your life isn’t yours. It’s everyone else’s and it’s meant to be dissected, critiques and analyzed.

Now tell me: why do you think I’m clinically depressed? And I wish doctors would stop bashing other doctors. This is ridiculous.

Dear Men

Dear Men

Show me a man who gives his undivided time and attention to his woman, and I’ll show you a man who stays online, reads his woman’s texts, communicates at the rate of one heart emoji per hour. So that’s twenty four hearts in a day, with some Can I talk to you later texts (despite the continuous online presence) thrown in.

If that’s not love, man, I don’t know what is.

Nothing tells your woman you love her so much than staying online on all social platforms and ignoring her all day. Nothing. Nothing tells your woman you love her more than sending her one dry I love you on Valentine’s Day. Nothing tells your woman you love her more than you love your alcohol and your toys and your man cave, than calling her once a week when you finally get bored of your daily skegde. Nothing.

Dear men, let me get something straight.

We don’t want your money. We don’t want your apartment key. Most of us don’t even wanna peek into your Goddamn phones. Most of us are nice enough to believe in all your lame stories about the continuously staying online but not talking situation. You tell us you’re online everywhere because you have a business meet and trust me we aren’t gullible but we believe you anyway. We don’t want drama. What we do want, however, is to be included in your life.

Dating is hard enough as it is.

And then there are islands in a man’s life. There’s the life island, which is sunny as fuck – that’s where his friends, football, alcohol, entrepreneurial dreams and family live and then there’s the love life island, on another planet – and that’s where his women live. Which has one type of climate – gloomy. Totally disconnected. It takes lightyears for a woman to be allowed to cross over from her own slot to be able to finally break into the life island scene. So dear men, how much do we women compromise? Do we settle and pretend to be okay with this whole thing of being in the sidelines?

While we do get it – that you need your space and your time as much as we do – do you really need so much space that you become an astronaut and discover new planets? I don’t understand. And it’s not just an one woman’s issue. It’s the same everywhere. All women face this. And they still stay with their men. I wonder how much we have to compromise and keep going. How many excuses we have to make to our friends because you wouldn’t show up since you had an important meeting with some other girl. How many lame twisted stories of yours do we have to believe in. And you know something, we can take that shit. What we don’t get, however, is why you’d want to get into a relationship in the first place when you think of your woman as a burden somewhere deep inside of you. Don’t get into a relationship if it’s so much work. How crazy hard is it to understand?

We can take being treated like we mean nothing, like we don’t matter and like we don’t have the capacity to think for ourselves. Doesn’t mean you subject us to all that, right? We sink when we fall in love with you, and we happily drown. We give up on ourselves to make you happy, so…

Here’s my question to you: what do you want?

Journal Entry, Sort Of

Journal Entry, Sort Of

February 27, 2018:

I don’t know where to begin. I think SAD is back to haunt me again, but it’s not even cold anymore. What’s wrong with me? I don’t know when or if I’ll ever be happy. I feel trapped. I’ve always felt this way. I don’t know what I’m doing, and where I’m supposed to be. I just… float sometimes. In my own head. Praying for a natural death. Some sort of death. I hope my autopsy is beautiful and that everyone admires my perfect organs, pristine and untouched by any sort of alcohol or tobacco, or men, proof of the “good girl” I’ve always been but which my mother would doubt till the last day of my existence.

People fantasize about romancing George Clooney, and I fantasize about romancing death. I fantasize about drowning in a dead pool of weedy water , somewhere no one can find me. I should sleep. It’s 4 am and I am wide awake. I can’t think much, except that death would be so beautiful right now.

February 28, 2018:

Pain spawns beautiful poetry. I’ve been reading Plath all day. Talking to this friend of mine. Talking about my boyfriend all the time. My friend was too polite to say he was bored. God bless his soul.

I woke up to sleep paralysis this morning. Hypoglycemic shock for lunch, and some sweet, sweet hypothermia for dinner. I can feel my body breaking down. I can feel it come apart. I want it to go waste. Because I am some colossal waste. I haven’t eaten in two days, nothing substantial at least and I feel myself going crazy. Prozac doesn’t help. I miss my man so much but there are rules sometimes, rules that keep a relationship alive.

I see how hard he works, it breaks my heart. I see his dark circles when he sends me photos of him. I can’t bear it anymore. He doesn’t deserve this. He deserves someone who’s not such a morbid dolly. He needs someone alive, full of laughter and love. Positivity.

Looks like natural death isn’t coming for me soon. I’ve to do something. There’s an eleven blade in my purse from earlier. The ones we use to make incisions during incision and drainage. It’ll do perfectly.

Lord, gimme strength.

Goodbye, world.

Do you guys like fiction like this? Let me know. I know, I know it’s really morbid but it’s just my thing. I have cherophobia maybe.

Trolls Kill, So Please Don’t Fit the Bill

Trolls Kill, So Please Don’t Fit the Bill

You post a photo on Instagram, you get ten likes in under a minute. And then someone leaves a comment.

“Fat ugly ho bag.”

And you die a little. You overlook the fact that they’ve misspelled. You overlook the lack of punctuation and your brain simply seems to amplify the fact that someone’s just called you a “ho bag”, whatever that is, and therefore, you’re no good at all. Isn’t it crazy? The power of the internet, and the ways it’s being used to kill people on the inside?

It’s not just Instagram. It’s all over – Reddit, Quora, Facebook, PopXO.

I’ve been called names and I’ve been called an attention seeker. I’ve been called a frog faced loser and I’ve been called an old geezer. I’ve been called names so crass, a drunken sailor would have been ashamed. I’ve been called a lot of meaningless gibberish in some language I never even knew existed. Yes, it’s made me cry. Yes, I’ve broken down. I’ve been in pieces. I’m not going to deny that any longer.

Trolls kill. They do.

Nothing hurts more than a bunch of insults typed out in haste on a social platform. Nothing hurts more than having someone with questionable education and upbringing, drag you through the mud, questioning your own. Has it ever happened to you? Anonymous people leaving a trail of comments on some post of yours, calling your names for something you’ve never done, and half the time, you won’t even know what happened? It’s happened to the best of us. We all have a breaking point, people.

No matter how strong we are as people, each of us has a threshold, a breaking point which when crossed, tends to emotionally destroy us on the inside.

So why troll?

People get jealous: they cannot tolerate successful people. People get frustrated when their lives seem lackluster. People get psychosis from drinking too much and people go nuts. People are also mostly cowardly and feel safe, hiding behind the veil of anonymity, and end up taking savage pleasure in destroying other people.

So if you’re one of these people, you’re a very nasty piece of work. You need help. And you need slap therapy.

Cyber bullying is NOT okay.

I’ve talked about this before. I’ve had to delete my social media. It took me a while to calm down and come back. Please don’t troll people because it’s a form of bullying and you’re taking lives very slowly. This is not just bad, it’s inhuman even.

It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t cost much to be encouraging.

If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Walk away. The world would be a much better place. If you fit the troll description, I have one thing to say – it’s not too late to work on yourself. You can still change. There’s no harm that comes out of being real and honest and genuine, so why troll meaninglessly?

Think about it.

Review: Pinrose Gilded Fox

Review: Pinrose Gilded Fox

I normally don’t review makeup or stuff like that on this blog anymore but this fragrance that I just happened to get my hands on, I feel, deserves its own blog post.

I came across Pinrose while looking through the explore section on my Instagram. And I’m huge sucker for packaging and they have a very unique design which they use for all their bottles. It’s like a little cuboidal bottle with blunt edges. I found the whole look so classy and edgy and feminine at the same time. The fragrance I got is called Gilded Fox and it’s a gourmand. Gourmand fragrances are those perfumes that typically smell like some form of dessert, to put it simply. Some of the most commonly used notes in gourmand perfumes include synthetic edible notes like vanilla, candy, honey, caramel and cocoa. They’re often paired with non edible notes like musk, amber, patchouli, and so on.

They’re also called Foodie Fragrances, according to Wikipedia.

Gilded Fox (EDP) is a stunning blend of rum, cocoa and vetiver. Vetiver is native to India 🇮🇳 (woohoo) and used widely in perfumery because of its fixative properties, making fragrances last longer. Now, I looked on Fragrantica and many people seem to be having issues with the longevity of Gilded Fox, but it seems to be working fine on me. I spray this like I normally would – on either sides of my neck and the collarbones and inner wrist. Maybe I kind of overdid it a little but it does last a solid five hours on me. Maybe more.

I enjoy the blend of cocoa and rum on me, specially because of the boozy vibe – it’s very, very unique and very different from my other cold weather favorite – Thierry Mugler Alien Essence Absolue, which smells very vanilla-y. Pinrose recommends layering it with another fragrance, but I really love wearing it on its own.

Totally recommend this if you wanna try a new gourmand that doesn’t burn a hole in your pocket.

However, they have only the 50 ml bottles and tiny rollerball situations. The 50 ml ones retail for USD 65 (I paid INR 6300 because I had a friend import it for me. She runs a page on Instagram called The_Makeup_House).



Oh my God. I can’t believe how much I missed doing these kinds of posts! Back in the day, I’d actually live for tag blogs. Hahahahaha. So when Simon (THANK YOU!!) nominated me I got all excited – this would also be my very first tag post in, like, two years. Yikes. That’s a long time.

So, what is this Mystery Blogger Award?

“It’s an award for amazing bloggers with ingenious posts. Their blog not only captivates; it inspires and motivates. They are one of the best out there, and they deserve every recognition they get. This award is also for bloggers who find fun and inspiration in blogging, and they do it with so much love and passion.”
Created by Okoto Enigma.

The rules:

• Put the award logo/image on your blog.

• List the rules.

• Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog.

• Mention the creator of the award and provide a link as well.

• Tell your readers 3 things about yourself.

• You have to nominate 10 – 20 people.

• Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog.

• Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify).

• Share a link to your best post(s).

At this point I’m sure everyone who’s been reading my blogs knows everything about me. So I’ll say something stupid and get on with it. Haha. Typical Sooch fashion.

1. I suck at three things – behaving myself, math and relationships.

2. I’m socially awkward.

3. I love donuts enough to live inside one. Creepy. Sorry.

Here are my answers from Simon.

What’s do you hope to better yourself in this year?

Stop overthinking and not expect a thing from people.

What was your favourite Christmas yummy?

SIMON. You already know I ate way too much cake this year!

What in the world now worries you most or would you like to see change?

Jihad. Drama. People shooting at each other for no reason whatsoever. EXTRAVAGANZA that’s not needed.

What’s your favourite biscuit?

There’s an Indian brand called Bisk Farm and they make these amazing crackers with cream cheese. Yum.

What is on Netflix right now that you can’t help watching?

Stranger things. Eheheh. I know.

And *drumroll* here are my nominees:





Bhukkhad Yatri

Chape Personal Trainer

Decoding Happyness

Fatty McCupcakes


I also nominate everyone who wants to do this challenge.

Here are my questions:

1. What was the last book you read?

2. How long have you been blogging with WordPress?

3. Your favourite movie of all time?

4. Are you a morning person?

5. What’s that one thing about yourself that you totally love?

Feel free to ignore the tag, there’s no compulsion at all. Also, here’s one of my blog posts that got about 98 likes. Like, that’s crazy but here you go.

What did black cats ever do to you?

Recipe for Disaster

Recipe for Disaster

You know what’s crazy? The whole dating scene. Relationships. It’s freaking twisted. I don’t mean to say that being in a relationship is a bad thing, because it isn’t. It’s great. It’s peachy. There’s kissing and there’s the occasional hand holding depending on the comfort level you and your partner share with the whole PDA thing.


I don’t get the point of getting asked out on stupid things like overpriced coffee dates. What do you achieve from this? I’ll tell you what. A big sack full of nada. I don’t like people that keep sending random texts asking you out for coffee. Like, what and why? I can make my own coffee, in the comfort of my own house and I don’t need you to pay 💰 for that crap. No thank you. It’s like consumerism has suddenly exploded and also started doing a serious amount of crack. Sigh. <<<<
't like planning things when it comes to romance and relationships. Unless of course, you're married and there's kids involved and you need to save where you can. I like spontaneity. I like being surprised. I'm talking good surprises. Not the kinds where your partner springs one on you and says woo hoo I’m leaving you for Cathy at work cause she has a bigger butt. Jesus. No. Not that kind; the good kind. The hey I made dinner and you’re coming over and we’re watching Friends together kind. How hard is that?

But no, no, no.

As if dating in India wasn’t hard enough, you gotta plan everything and you gotta end up breaking your head when your partner cancels plans. Like, stop. Live. Live every moment. You don’t need to go ahead and be a control freak from hell. I’ve seen people who feel the need to update their partner with every little detail of what’s going on. This micromanaging thing? It’s fucking scary! You promise yourself you won’t turn into one of those people but lo and behold, you’re the champion of micromanagers. And you don’t even know when that shit happened.

And if everything is going okay between you and your partner, there will always be an external factor just waiting to make a mess.

Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. And it’s the loss that’s gonna make you flip. It’s so scary.

Who else feels the same way?

This Is Everything

This Is Everything

The tiny town I come from does these book fairs every year. Now, I hadn’t been home since years and my last memory of going to a book fair happens to be from before I graduated high school. Wow. I’m old. That’s besides the point, I know.

I have a competitive test to take in less than forty eight hours. And I had a total meltdown. There’s only so much a normal human being can study. At some point, my brain felt like an overstuffed suitcase teetering dangerously on the edge of a conveyer belt, waiting to burst open. Luckily for me, Dad happened to notice I was super stressed out and told me we were gonna take a walk.

I don’t remember the last time I took a walk. I’m that stressed and that confined to my room. So I grabbed a jacket and we took a walk. And there was this book fair going on and I didn’t know about it! I’d forgotten it was that time of the year in my little town because I’d been away for so long. I nearly squealed. Why? THERE WAS A BOOK FAIR GOING ON AND THERE WAS NO CROWD. WHICH MEANT ZERO PANIC ATTACKS AND THE FREEDOM TO LOOK THROUGH EACH STALL IN PEACE. HAVE YOU EVER FELT SUCH PEACE? It’s been a while for me but today was such a good day.

I think I stayed for two hours before Dad told me he had to head back to his patients and that we should get going.

Now my point is, why was the whole place deserted? Don’t people read anymore? I’m sure there are many others who actually grew up reading Roald Dahl and RL Stine. I mean, doesn’t the very trademark font bring back memories for anyone else anymore? Once in a while it’s really nice to go back to where we started. Know what I’m saying?

This rat race isn’t everything. This – losing yourself in the pages of a story – is everything. I gotta read more this year.

There was this lady who’d come from some super remote – even remoter compared to my tiny town – village with baked goods and she was the sweetest thing ever. I saw her feed this child that didn’t really have any place to go. Faith in humanity, restored right there. Also, why do we still have homeless children in the streets!? It’s kind of sad.

Anybody else been to one of these book fair things lately? I know my post was super random, but my head is all over the place. Stress. Sorry, sorry.