The Marketer Who Went Off Consumption

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The problem with being off consumption is that you can no longer buy a ‘treat’ for yourself in order to snap out of a bad mood. Being off consumption means no comfort food, no self-gifting, no temporary postponement of pain by the rush of adrenalin triggered off by that perfect purchase.

But I knew that when I went off consumption. I knew that, to resist the temptation to buy, I’ll basically need to be happy all the time. I also knew that I’ll face my first big test as soon as I hit a bad day.

Today has been a particularly bad day.

I took three weeks off from work (out of my accumulated leave totaling up to more than hundred days), starting last week, in order to write more, put a little traction behind the book. I did write a little, but I have twenty unwritten posts queued in my mind, fading away with every passing minute.

As it turned out, my three weeks of leave has shrunk to three days, and I even spent a substantial part of those three days working from home.

On Saturday evening, I walked over to Alliance Francaise to watch Rimbaud’s ‘Enfer et Illumination’, a French play that is part of the month long ‘The French Touch’ festival.

The play basically involved a man (Rimbaud) and a woman (his muse?) reciting Rimbaud’s poetry in French, and enacting it in the Kuchipudi tradition (painted faces et al), while English subtitles were projected onto the screen.

I hardly know any French, haven’t ever read Rimbaud, and have no interest in Kuchipudi. The only reason I went for the play was because it was free and therefore allowed.

However, Rimbaud’s almost metaphysical poetry, my near zero comprehension of the French language, and the French actors’ rather amateurish rendition of Kuchipudi didn’t mix well and I walked out of the auditorium with a minor headache.

Later in the night, a friend came over to my house, and we stayed up all night and drank a bottle of my best French Merlot. She was much amused with my French escapade and teased me about it all night, but she also gave me one of the best head massages I have ever had.

I have a confession to make.

I have an insatiable craving for McDonald’s Paneer Salsa Wrap.

It hits me at the oddest times and places, more often than I would like to admit.

Sometimes, I’m running on Marine Drive and, suddenly, my stomach ties up into knots and all I can think of is a McDonald’s Paneer Salsa Wrap.

I have to stop, bend over, take a few deep breaths, look out over the sea towards Malabar Hills, wait for the craving to slowly subside.

Sometimes, when I can’t control the craving, I get into a taxi and go over to the McDonald’s outlet in Colaba and get myself one (or two) at 463 kCal apiece.

Sometimes, I’m kissing a woman and my mouth goes all wet and dribbley and all I can think of is a McDonald’s Paneer Salsa Wrap.

Some women notice, others don’t, but every time it happens, I know exactly what has triggered it.

Some women like wet kisses, others don’t, so, the reaction varies; I don’t think it has been a deal-breaker so far.