Thursday, August 3

Keto Chocolate Ice- cream



I got this recipe from a family friend and tweaked it a little bit to make my own version. 

Wednesday, August 2

A Beginner's Insight Into Keto


Why did I start Ketogenic Diet?

I’ve been hearing about Keto from a while and like most people, I refrained from exploring it initially. However, I’ve been doing some research, reading and discussing with people who have been through a cycle.

Post my 15-20 day no training vacay, I had a little set back with my training. I felt that I could only perform some of my sets with weights at a notch lower, my cardio seemed to have gone down and I had put on some undesirable weight of about 1.5 KG. This was my chance to give Ketogenic Diet a try!

What is a keto diet?

Don’t let its fancy name fool you, it’s essentially a low-carb, high-fat diet (LCHF)—both taken to extremes. A strict ketogenic diet involves ultra-low carb consumption, like 20 or 30 grams a day.

Many researchers suggest that this can help reduce appetite, spur weight loss and improve markers of heart disease.

Along with slashing carbs, a ketogenic plan also calls for limiting protein consumption. If you know your macros*, you already know that cutting carbs and restricting protein means seriously upping your fat intake. And that’s exactly what a true ketogenic diet entails. Healthy fats must account for about 80% of your calories, and protein around 20%.

*macros is an abbreviated term of macronutrients. Your macros are your daily intake of “the big 3” nutrients: fats, protein, and carbohydrates

Thursday, June 8

Boob Talk: Part 3





Going bra less is looked at like a political statement inspired by feminists or activists of movements such as #freethenipple. Then there are latest trends, where you spot your favorite celebrities like Rihanna, Kendall Jenner, Gigi Hadid walk the streets making 'no bra' a style statement.

Most influencers are doing it; donning clothes that don't need bras to look good. It's a good light, especially for women with smaller boobs. An expression as simple as that unknowingly promotes embracing our bodies however they are. 

Wearing or not wearing a bra is more about comfort than anything else. Women have to deal with the whole ordeal of painful straps, underwire, choking cups to live up to a standard on 'how a woman's breast must look like'; a standard that was made by the society years back. Anything that defies that norm obviously raises questions on morals, creates discomfort, draws inappropriate attention and the likewise. It's been researched and proven that women who use bras have more sagging breasts than free breasts. Try going off the bra for a year and mark the difference. Well if you've crossed a certain age, there might not be a marked difference cause you've already done the damage. However it hold good for most younger women.

There's a downside to not wearing bras as well. If you're chest heavy, you might not feel support without a bra. Your breasts might feel all jiggly, out of control, getting everyone's attention to your chest, most importantly be painful at the end of the day. It's totally up to you if you're comfortable going without one.

Personally, I am okay going bra less, if I'm wearing a tight top. It makes me feel sexy; it's fun! No bra for loose tee-shirt, it's a no-no for me because it's not as fun as it looks if you don't have small boobs. I've tried it and it's nothing short of uncomfortable. Remember when I mentioned that anything you do with your body is a strong expression of being comfortable in your skin? Good. Sometimes, 'good girls go bad' because 'how the hell does it matter why'. I'm an individual perfectly capable of making a rational judgement for my body.




The choice,whether or not to go bra less, should solely be made by someone who has them. Sounds adequate, right? In a society where we are all pro shirtless men because consider it a healthy sexualization, if at all us and them do, it's frivolous to frown when a woman chooses to go without a bra. That's how our bodies are made; we get pointy nipples when we are excited or just cold. That's about it. Get over it already!

Sunday, May 14

Boob Talk: Part 2


BOOBS.

How many of you said that aloud in your mind, looking at this picture, before even reading the word?

If it were a 14 year old me, she'd probably have too, having absolutely zero exposure to the world of desire and a woman's choice to be whoever she wants to be. You don't. Now, you have access to Internet, Television and some meaningful stuff on Netflix. You are a product of a million years of evolution. Act like it.

I assume a few of you thought I was naked until you saw that tiny patch of clothing towards the bottom on my left boob. Did you go check it now? Good. How many of you immediately sexualized it? No? Okay, did you just save the picture? Just for future admiration, not to re-look at my semi boob line, of course.

Did I want the picture to be sexualized when I getting this shot? Maybe. Maybe not.

Maybe, it was one of those shots in between shots where I was just trying to fix my clothes cause a couple of passers by were peeking into the car while we were getting the shot done. Maybe the bra was poking me and I was trying to adjust it. Maybe it was sultry, and I was trying to get some air. Trying to adjust my top. Trying to change. Trying to feed my baby. Trying to treat some pain. Trying to create a photograph. Having a private moment with my lover. Are you going to shame me for any or all of the above?

Don't make us shy away from our bodies, just because you see female flesh and ALL you can do is sexualize it. 

We read about violent rape crimes against women: breast mutilation, unwanted objects inserted in the vagina, domestic violence and the list continues with grotesque details. All of them are a product of misplaced ego and a disturbed mind.

The problem is that we don't look at women like humans anymore; we look at them like they are sexual creatures, every inch of which is a conquest in someone's territory.

Here's another picture. Sexualize this instead.

Thank you.

Wednesday, March 15

In the battle of love, I am nobody’s doorstep

The bittersweet truth of late night conversations are the words that make love under the sheets of thunderous reality and the solace that comes with 3 am wishful thinking. Of all the modal auxiliaries, can is the most disappointing. Your self deception wants you to keep living the present, stretching it slowly to make the moment last as long as possible, whereas the excruciating pain of reality keeps coming back in form of WH questions. Reactions and responses carry a certain amount of weight; I don't wish to carry some along. The idea was never to relinquish what we have, but the weight of the aspect that we can't. Once you've tasted authenticity, there's no fear, there's no doubt. Certain people become a part of your story and your life is never the same. You are allowed to miss the person you once were without wanting to be them again. No feeling is final, so let us flow with the tide, whether into or away from each other, until we find a box and name it 'safe place' so that we can throw our worries in there, instead of everywhere else. No matter when we let go, it will hurt, so shouldn't we float in this moment longer and make it worth the pain?

Thursday, March 9

War In My Mind

I was reminiscing all those nights when your vulnerability touched me more than the warmth of your skin. You know the feeling when you know all you could possibly do to someone is damage them in the end, yet all they want to do, is to cling on to you with all their love and you can't let go, because you love them too? Flesh is the tool of the weak, so you can't see us bind this love of ours by holding hands in public places. It's 11:11 and I'm in his bed torn between holding on or letting go. He has a peaceful place in his soul and a restless home in his heart and I find myself lost in his array of words that just keep calling me home. He hates the sunsets, but I tell them that the trees never miss it, so shouldn't we. He has a name for this chaos of desire and wishful thinking, but I have somewhere else to be and we'll probably make a mess of everything in the process, but we aren't remorseful cause we are only growing. In the end, we all become stories. Here we are, going nowhere with all this love, so writing about it.

Sunday, January 1

01/01/2017



I don't usually do throwbacks; I'm that person who once leaves things behind and leaves them forever like they didn't exist. 

We usually tend to be runners because we often aspire to conceive poetically devastating memories, slowly sulking in the warm abyss of spotless mind. Often rebounding. One person at a time. Blame it on massive, deep dwelling passages of literary works of art. However, this time, it's unprecedented and I've been reminiscing about how purposeful the past 300 odd days have been for me.

Last year for me was all about focusing on directing positive energies, into actions, into people, into life in general, and in turn filtering the same back into my energy circles.

2016 was an amazing year; mostly uphill and filled with journeys to new places, meeting new people and finding newer versions of old people. It has been a year of learning and self discovery. It has made me hopeful and slowly stirred in me the cream of good vibes, overflowing to radiate out to anybody who has touched my life meanwhile. This was a year of introspection in it's most literal sense, changes, monumental changes in my spirit and psyche and plenty of reflection. The people that met in the beginning of this year inspired me and pushed me to become the best version of myself because they believed in me. I found love again. A kind of love that subtly tames the hurricane in me. With love, I feel calm.

Sunday, November 27

How Freedom Tastes Like: Birthday Dresses, Pretty Boys and Choices

I have, as a woman, always struggled with the idea of freedom. When I was little, it was about choosing my birthday dress. I wouldn't ever know of that, because I would sit silently in my room making everybody wait by the cake, until my father got home with the dress. I would happily put it on as if it were it, it were exactly what I wanted.

Until I was about fifteen, I could hardly apprehend choices. When I was in grade seven, I liked two boys at the same time and they both would drive me equally mad about them both physically and emotionally. I just couldn't choose. I wanted them both equally. Is this normal to not be able to choose between two people you love? But, why do I have to choose at all.

Sunday, October 2

We speak of monsters as if we aren't one.

If you aren't content with where you are, leave. If it doesn't feel like home, they aren't your person. If you constantly crib about how tough life is, look around often. If you believe that love was always meant to be unrequited, think about the people who loved you, but you couldn't love them back.

We are often clouded with this idea that our wants are unlimited. Yes, there is a word for it- Desire. Humans are fueled by this unreasonable idea of 'limitless wanting' to an extent, that they start believing it. When we want something and later get it, we want more. Desires don't increase. We just tend to want something new, something different. Humans tend to achieve a false sense of accomplishment by trying to obtain what they don't have. The tougher the battle, the better the rush.

We cling on to false hopes, we seek pleasure in misery. Now that's not your life battle; that's your struggle with self. You and I have read enough spiritual books that tell us how our problems are self inflicted and have no connect with what our lives could have been, had we attracted positive things. Nah, I don't want a good life. I only like the bad boys.

Tuesday, September 13

Delicate

Certain voices make your heart smile. His was one of those. The thing about past is that you want to fuck it off, but it's so integral for what you've become. The thing about past is also that it makes you want to treasure some of it forever in your beauty box, but it it is no longer valid.

I felt weirdly drawn towards saving his little text messages, reading it in my head to the sound of his voice. His voice was caramel sauce topped on whipped cream and my mind inevitably demanded his name on my phone every weekend. 

He always called when it was half past two; when he fell right into my routine or maybe I did. Every time I read his name, I knew what was coming and I gracefully engrossed myself in it, like embracing my own soul.  His body shattered me like a ticking time bomb. In the silence before the storm, we sat there in the quiet dark, waiting for the bomb to hatch a terrible thunder. You know how some lovers are like chains, pulling us back into dimly lit places.