Being a beautiful mummy and relishing my Lagan nu Custard

Whether I'm a size 10 or a size 20

I hit the remote to open the garage, and before it’s even halfway open, my 3-year-old, Mez, comes running outside. Barefoot.

“My beautiful mummy!!!” he exclaims. I roll my eyes.

I don’t feel beautiful. What will it take for me to see what my son sees?

If there’s one thing I don’t feel right now, it’s beautiful.

My hair is matted, my socks are wet from walking home in the winter drizzle, and all I want to do is undo my bra.

I change into my baggy, once-purple track pants - doing my best not to look for too long in the mirror. If I’m being honest, I haven’t felt beautiful in at least two years. No time to think about that now, my brain prompts me as I head to the kitchen for the dinner-bath-bed routine.

As M2 is falling asleep, he hugs me tight and whispers, “Mummy, you’re so beautiful” into the crook of my neck.

Why can’t I see what he sees? 

When I get scared to have my photo taken. Or when I choose to wear elastic leggings instead of buttoned pants, in case the latter have gotten tight for some reason? Sighing, I open the fridge and serve myself a larger-than-required rectangle of Lagan nu Custard.

An individual serve of sweet and creamy Lagan nu Custard

A sweet reward for making it through the day, which started almost 19 hours ago.

I let the cool, sweet richness of the custard roll over my tongue as I sink into the sofa.

I’m tired of dieting.
I’m tired of not fully enjoying what I’m eating at any given point.
And I’m tired of being unhappy in my skin.

I bite into a nutty almond sliver hiding amongst the custard as my phone beeps with some phone memories. 

The condensed milk creaminess coats my mouth as I click on the memory video that’s shown up. In all the photos, I’m thinner than I am now. I begin to reprimand myself for what I’ve “lost”. Maybe I should put away this tasty custard and let someone else eat it.

Only for my brain to remind me, that’s not how I felt back then.  

In the photo of me in a black silk sari, I never saw my smile, just the tummy roll hiding behind the sari pleat! The closeup of me with both my boys on the back - how big are those arms? A selfie of my husband Rushad and me - I remember obsessing over my double chin.

I’ve always felt fat. When I’ve been a size 10. When I’ve been pregnant. And now, when I’m a size 20. 

Want to know what joy smells like? It’s the aroma of a freshly baked Lagan nu Custard

So perhaps, the problem is not the custard.

The widget on my locked screen (that my empowered eating coach Michelle forced me to set up) reminds me, “You are enough. You are beautiful.”

I go back to what I’ve learned in recent months. It’s a matter of choice.

I can choose to listen to my body and feed it the sweetness it craves on a tough day.
I can choose to relish my cool custard with my eyes closed, like I did as a child at Parsi weddings, instead of worrying about calories.
I can choose to even have a second serve and still feel beautiful, no matter what size I am.

Maybe Mez is right. I AM his beautiful mummy.

Not when I become a size 16 again. Not when I stop enjoying my custard. But now. Just as I am.

Super mum, beautiful mum, just as she is.

What is Lagan nu Custard?

Lagan nu Custard is a Parsi dessert traditionally served at a wedding (lagan in Gujarati). It’s a riff on the European creme brulee minus the crispy top and made Parsi with the addition of vanilla, cardamom and nutmeg.

Curiously, if you were to attend a Parsi wedding, your custard would not come right at the end but somewhere between the fish and the rice course. Some will save it to the end, while other greedy guests (like me) will relish it right away.