Now that I have yanked, stretched and rebonded my locks to death, I'm back to my old frizz and loving it. I can appreciate my bulbous nose - it has character, if not proportion.

Appreciate that adipose and those dimpled thighs, says Farah Baria, who has finally learnt to love her body just the way it is

Nirvana, these days, is devoting your life to the bathroom scales. So, not long ago, I sought out the New Guru: a dietician. Actually, it was a snap decision made at a lingerie store, sifting idly through some sexy underwear. "Will that be large or extra large, madam?" inquired the salesman with impeccable politeness. I stopped and instinctively looked over my shoulder to glance at the unfortunate customer.

There was no one. "Excuse me madam, large or extra large?" And then it sank in. This toadying, potbellied man with the ingratiating smile was actually addressing me - me, the girl who once got into a size ten dress with room to spare! Mortified, I fled, but not before catching a glimpse of myself in one of those horribly candid, full length mirrors. I blinked. Two kids and a decade of Epicurean profligacy had taken their toll. Clearly, a Guru was the need of the hour.

But, my very first darshan was far from inspiring. A poky, little waiting room, garish stained glass, polyester curtains. I allowed myself to be led into an inner sanctum, humbly accepted an electronic crystal ball called a Body Fat Calculator, which magically computes your adipose, and submitted meekly to its verdict - 32.6 per cent.

"My God, that's a lot!" said a voice from Heaven. I paled and looked up uncertainly. There, standing before me, was what could only have been a giantess, about a foot taller than my five feet, six inches and weighing not a gram less than a hundred kilos. Hopefully not a success story, if those formidable biceps were anything to go by, I thought nervously. The incredible hulk smiled, a don't-worry-we've-seen-worse-than-you sort of smile and introduced herself as the assistant.

Having passed the litmus test of corpulence, I was registered as a worthy devotee and was invited to sit on a narrow bench that could barely accommodate my insolent derriere. Precariously balanced, were two other ladies, with multiple chins that disappeared seamlessly into 'jowly' necks, colossal bosoms and gargantuan bellies. I almost pirouetted with glee. XL or no XL, next to this lot, I was a dainty, spry ballerina!