Me-OW! and the Exception: Part 1

Every Spring, the Indian Student Alliance (ISA) at the University of Iowa hosts an intercollegiate dance competition called Nachte Raho, or "Keep On Dancing." Invitations to participate are sent to South Asian dance organizations, and in 2005, the dance company I was a member of  received one. We were ecstatic. About half a dozen of us dancers piled into a minivan, and off we went to Iowa City to flaunt our fabulous Bollywood moves.

We had a GREAT time. I remember that the weather cooperated during the drive, and Iowa's campus was beautiful. I remember that the ISA executive board couldn't have been nicer, and our hotel room was lovely. I remember that we looked smashing in our costumes, and we placed second - not too shabby for our first competition.

Nearly a decade later, though, what I remember most is getting ready for the show. There was a flurry of activity in the room - pinning our dresses, spraying our hair stiff, lining our lips with gloss. As I put on my costume, I commented aloud on how my blouse wouldn't lie quite the way it was supposed to. One of the girls, who I never got along with, turned to me and replied, "Oh, that always happens to me when I put on a lot of weight."

Whoa dang.

It had been a particularly busy semester. I was taking more credit hours than usual, along with a nightly MCAT prep class. There were dance rehearsals, a part time job, a research assistantship, and lots of volunteering. I slept occasionally. I barely socialized. With such a crazy demanding schedule, I coped the best I could: I ate many, many Chewy Chips Ahoy Chocolate Chip cookies.

And then I gained 10 pounds.

I don't buy those cookies anymore.

So there I was, half dressed and stressed, and this heinous (fill in insulting noun of your choice) has pointed out my plump in front of everyone. Two thoughts run through my mind: one, I wish I had a cookie to throw at her, and two, what's with the cattiness?

Cattiness is a deliberate yet subtle intent to inflict harm. It is malicious - but not obvious. Actually, I take that back. It's not obvious to guys. But girls? Girls know cattiness. We know when we see it. And unfortunately, we're also pretty good at dishing it out.

Here's the thing. Being a girl is AWESOME. We can give birth, we have lower insurance rates, and we usually smell better than guys. But being a girl can be hard. We feel pressure to "have it all", we make less money than guys, and the weather impedes us from wearing our favorite shoes. We know it's hard. So here is my question: if we know that it's already so hard, why do we make it even harder by being catty?

I had always assumed that it was me - that is, when someone was catty, it was something I had said or done. But after going to graduate school, I realized that most people are fairly consumed with their own lives and really don't have the mental space to scrutinize others the way we scrutinize ourselves. People's actions rarely have anything to do with me and nearly everything to do with them.

If we approach a catty girl from that perspective, we start to see that she REEKS of insecurity. For whatever reason, she doesn't feel so hot about herself and wants to feel better. So she empowers herself by putting someone else down. I get it. I'm a therapist. I am all about people owning their inherent awesomeness. But I take serious issue with building self esteem when it happens at someone else's expense. Because it is mean. It is selfish. It gives you bad karma. And you know what else?

It doesn't work.

Not for long, at least. The catty girl will always have to put someone else down in order to feel good about herself. And that, my friends, is a truly unfortunate way to live. Now when I consider the catty girl and her comments, I don't feel hurt or mad anymore. On the outside, I laugh it off. On the inside, I wonder how it must be for the catty girl. How exhausting and painful it must be to dislike one's self so. darn. much.

You may be wondering what happened to the girl that called me out. Her friends had told me that she had gotten "real fat" after graduation - their words, not mine. Honestly, with friends like that, who needs enemies? A few years later, we ended up running into one other at a wedding, and I eventually approached her. I had been eating healthier and dancing more, and I loved the dress I had worn. I felt good about how I looked that day. I felt confident about myself and the direction my life was going.

I told her it was good to see her and how nice she looked.

And then I walked away with my head held high.

Because, you see, my dad and mom raised me to be a lady. I'm all class.

Well. And a little sass.

Much love,

Kavi

The first time, I went bananas

Okay, I know I said this post would be up on Thursday, but I've been migraine-y (that's a word) for the past couple of days, so you'll forgive me for being an hour or so late, right? Thanks.

My family practices Jainism. You may want to ask me about Jainism. I'd rather just direct you to Wikipedia. Because Wikipedia knows more than I do about EVERYTHING.

Because we are Jain, we are vegetarian. This means no chicken, no fish . . . and no eggs.

You need eggs to bake, people.

So we never baked.

* cue the smallest violin in the world playing the saddest song *

This changed at some point and time. We all have a terrible sweet tooth - at buffets, my dad has been known to skip dinner entirely and go straight to dessert (that's smart, except he's diabetic). And then my mother got a KitchenAid stand mixer, and BLAM, we began to bake at home.

Around this time, I had a boyfriend. He was lovely until he wasn't, and then we broke up. But while we were together, he would tell me of his banana bread and how warm and delicious it was. He never brought me any, though. No wonder things didn't work out. Anyway, one day I asked him for the recipe and wrote it down. 

Then I did nothing with that scrap of paper for approximately four and a half years. 

My friend, Streetz - yes, that's actually her name, and yes, it's way cooler than any of our names - was having a Memorial Day Party, and I didn't want to come empty handed, because my momma taught me better than that. So I scrounged around and dug up that scrap of paper and made me some banana bread. 

And lo and behold, it was all gone by the end of the night. Success!

I bake so often, and I have many, many recipes that I love. But banana bread holds a special spot in my belly, because it was the first. So . . . here's the recipe - enjoy.

Banana Bread

* Ingredients

- 1½ cups flour
- 1 cup sugar
- 1 tsp baking soda
- ½ tsp salt
- ½ cup vegetable oil
- 3 eggs
- 2 ripe bananas, peeled
- LOVE. No, I'm kidding, that's so cheesy.

* Steps

1. Preheat your oven to 350°F.

2. Combine all ingredients in a bowl. Use an electric mixer to blend everything together until smooth.

3. Pour the batter into . . . something. The obvious choice is a loaf pan, but I use a large Pyrex dish. The bread seems to bake more evenly, and it's easier to store. But whatever you use, use baking spray to grease your pan before you pour the batter.

4. Bake for an hour or until a toothpick inserted comes out mostly clean. Allow the bread to cool.

5. Eat some, and share with people you like. You can also share with people you don't like. That's cool.

* Add In Options (because I'm fancy like that)

- 1 cup of milk chocolate chips = chocolate chip banana bread. NOT semi-sweet chips, because they are gross.

- 1 cup of walnuts = banana walnut bread. You could even take the loaf out partway through baking and sprinkle additional walnuts on the top. Pretty and yummy crust.

- 2 tsp of cinnamon

- ½ tsp of nutmeg

- Or you could combine some, or all, of the options above. Get crazy.

Much love,

Kavi

Back for seconds

In 2005, I stumbled upon the first blog I would follow. I was a junior at the University of Illinois and was entirely consumed  completely obsessed  utterly tormented focused on being accepted to medical school. One day, I was forwarded a link to a comic strip titled "The 12 Types of Med Students. (Never heard of it? Click here for a good chuckle. For the record, I was initially "The Sensitive Soul." But once I got to medical school and had chronic migraines, I became "The Missing"/"The Crier." And now I am "The Sane One." Carry on). After some snooping, I found that the creator of the comic, Michelle, had a blog called "The Underwear Drawer."

And so I began to read it.

I still read Michelle's blog, along with a handful of others (Lauren Conrad and Mix and Match Mama are amongst my faves). I love getting a glimpse into someone's life, because I'm nosy like that. And now that I'm a blogger, I'm ready to give y'all a peek into my world.

When I began toying with the idea of blogging, I asked my sister, Nikita, for suggestions for a title. I wanted the name to reflect me - and she does know me pretty darn well. In retrospect, I should have known better than to ask the girl who commonly declares that this is HER world, and we're all just living in it. Ever the narcissist, she advocated for the title to be "i wuv nikita." I do love you, Nikita, even though I didn't mention you at all in my first post (yes, she did complain about that). But . . . no.

The name, "Just a Spoonful of . . . Something," is just like it sounds - a dash of this, a dollop of that, all of which make up my lovely life. This includes:

* Baking incessantly

I bake at least twice a week. Something about mixing batter soothes me. That must mean I require a lot of soothing, no? 

Sometimes it's from scratch: other times, I use a mix as a base. Either way, it's sweet, and everyone needs a smidge of sweet in their lives - and I will share my sweetness with you.

* And cooking too, because a girl can't live off of baked goods alone. (But oh, if I could . . .)

My family is brimming with fabulous cooks - especially my mom. I always had the best lunches at school, and I had home cooked food every. single. night. Then I went off to college and discovered that the plate of steaming hot deliciousness didn't magically appear before me on its own. What?!

And so I learned to make my own meals, and now I'll tell you about the concoctions that turned out splendidly.

* Real books, because I'm old school and supremely nerdy.

I don't own a Kindle or Nook and probably never will. I'd rather go to the public library and get a stack of books, because it's free. IT'S FREE, YOU GUYS.

I usually read right before I go to bed - in fact, I can't fall asleep without reading for a while - and I average a book a week. I'll talk about some of the good ones that fall into my lap.

* Deep thoughts on "The Bachelor" 

Stop judging me. I am very, very aware that this show is a - not real at all and b - a complete train wreck.

But I can't stop watching it, mostly because it makes me laugh, and I really like poking fun at all the contestants. So humor my inner mean girl, okay? I rarely allow her and her snarkiness out in public.

* And random musings and updates about my life

Pretty self explanatory. 

I'm sure this blog will evolve into more, but this is a good jumping off point. If you come back and visit on Thursday, I'll tell you about the first time I went bananas.

Intrigued? Good. You should be.

Much love,

Kavi

The first bite

Well, hello there.

My name is Kavita.

And this is my blog.

Here's a fun fact about me: I collect children's fiction and still read it frequently. I think of it as "comfort reading" - sort of like comfort food, but much easier on your waistline. Anyway, when I was brainstorming ideas for my introductory post, I thought of the Anastasia books by Lois Lowry. The protagonist, Anastasia, is perpetually middle school aged (side note: why do so many authors do that? I mean, the Baby Sitters Club characters have been in 8th grade for-frickin'-EVER) and wants to be a journalist. And as a journalist, she simply needs to answer the following questions for each story: who, what, when, where, and why. So I'll use that as my jumping off point.

Who: Kavita (that's me!)

What: Is starting a blog called "Just a Spoonful of . . . Something."

When: Today, January 23rd, 2014.  And I'll try to post once or twice a week. So come visit often - you're always welcome here!

Where: From my office, which is also the dining room in my apartment. Beyoncé is likely to be blaring in the background (although right now, it's Prince's "Kiss"). But if I'm feeling lazy, I reserve the right to blog from the comfort of my couch or my bed.

Why: Holy moly, macaroni. Why am I blogging? It's kind of a sudden whim, but my reasons are fourfold:

1. Because underneath my infinity scarf and fabulous shoes, I'm a great, big NERD.

Confession: I absolutely love school. A LOT. In fact, I'd like to pursue a PhD in Clinical or Educational Psychology in the next couple of years.

I also have a significant problem with writing. It overwhelms me so easily and thus causes me so much trouble when writing a cover letter or a paper. If I want to progress professionally, I need to write efficiently and well. So what better way to practice than blogging? Sounds like fun to me!

2. Because I am simply awful at keeping in touch.

Fun fact: I was president of a South Asian dance company during my senior year in college. I don't why, but when you put a group of brown women together, I can guarantee there is an exponential amount of drama. During that year, my phone rang approximately a dozen times a day with dancers whining that she did or didn't do this to me and I can't or won't do that and that's not fair and oh my GOD, why won't you girls just grow up and STOP CALLING ME?

As a result, I hate talking on the phone. I have also become increasingly bad at responding to emails promptly. It took me a year to respond to my college roommate's email (I'm not exaggerating). It's just embarrassing. But if I blog consistently, my loves will be able to keep up with me better.

3. Because I (not so secretly) want to be famous.

Oh, come on. Like it hasn't crossed your mind before?

When I was 8 years old, I asked my dad if I could be famous - and he said no. In his defense, he actually was taking me seriously, and he wanted me to enjoy my childhood (good call, Dad).

But I still want to be famous! And this blog is my silly attempt at fame. Hey, it beats signing up to be a contestant on "The Bachelor." For the record, I would totally be sent home during the first rose ceremony.

4. Because . . . why not?

I recently caught up with my dear friend, Sups, and during our chat, I was reflecting on how I'm in a very different place in my life than I ever expected to be. Don't get me wrong: different doesn't mean bad. It's just that different can be uncomfortable, and I don't like being uncomfortable. But Sups pointed out that different is also really exciting, because I have the power to make my life what I want it to be - and THAT sounds pretty awesome.

I also feel like I'm on the cusp of something really big. It's not a particularly logical thought, but my gut tells me this year is going to be fantastic and life changing. So I've decided to indulge and push myself this year - I'm going to spend time with my loves. I'm going to do things I love. I'm going to better myself each step of the way.

And I'm going to start this blog and document the whole process. Not too shabby of a resolution, huh? ;-)

So, please - take off your shoes, grab a spoon and a blanket, and make yourself at home. Thanks for reading, and cheers to the good times to come.

Much love,
Kavi