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I’m going to lose 15 pounds by April.
If you’ve been reading this blog long enough, you’ll know I’ve been bitching about losing weight for two years now.
But this time, I really am going to do it.
There is a bribe involved.
My dad has told me if I lose at least 15 pounds by April, he will buy me a pair of Manolo Blahniks to wear at his hospital’s garden party later that month.
That’s a huge fucking deal. My dad hasn’t bought me anything since I left home three years ago. (He’s still bitter I went out and got my own apartment. In his traditional Indian mind, women should live at home until marriage or death. Whichever comes first.)
To be honest, it’s not the bribing part that is most thrilling. I thrive on bribes from my father.
Each year of elementary school, I aced all my honors classes so I could receive a shiny new toy at the beginning of summer.
In high school, I got nothing less than a B all four years so my dad would buy me a brand new car after graduation.
In college, I got nothing less than a B all four years so my dad would pay my tuition and country club membership.
Now, it’s the shoes.
But for me, the most exciting aspect is the party. You see, I never thought I would get to go back.
Five years ago, when I was 96 pounds, my dad took me to his hospital’s Christmas party, which was being held at a gorgeous historical mansion downtown. He let me sit with his secretary and the nurses because he thought it would be good for me to sit with girls around my own age.
It was a brilliant idea. The girls were so much fun and we had an absolute blast. We ended up getting fabulously drunk and started dirty dancing to the Black Eyed Peas on stage and erupting into loud laughter every five minutes. I took it one step further and, wearing a little black dress and four inch heels, did a solo dance routine to Gwen Stefani’s banana song on a bar stool.
It was epic and to this day, people my dad barely knows at the hospital still stop him in the hallways to ask about me.
I’m not gonna lie. I kind of want to repeat that experience. In Manolo Blahniks.
So, here goes my weight loss routine. I’m a lot more optimistic this time because I can see the reward ahead of me. I am a greyhound, chasing the rabbit. I am a fashionista chasing a $900 pair of heels.
Wish me luck!
PS. If you’re looking for Oscar red carpet coverage, my hilarious friend Lauren has it here.