Warning – this post rated “R” for gory details.

My doctor’s thinks I’m hot. No, really. Over the last week or so, I had developed a pea sized growth on my cheek (“Oh it’s just a boil, nothing to worry about”), which, thanks to the excess body heat that I possess - ask my doc- grew to the size of a golf-ball (ok, may be that’s a slight exaggeration).

So not only was I completely unsightly and in pain (it was the equivalent of a man sitting in there with a sledgehammer, pounding my insides to a gooey pulp), it also gave my doc immense pleasure. You see, although I trust him blindly, that doesn’t change the facts.

He’s a sadist. So every day for the past three days, I have been undergoing the equivalent of labour pain. Lying on his recliner, I stifle my moans as he squeezes the hell outta my cheek, and watch him glow in the satisfaction. To make things worse, he makes it a point to show me each blood-soaked ball of cotton as he throws it away. Today’s supposedly the last day of this “draining” session (quite literally). Perhaps I won’t be so brave today and yell just when the waiting area is full. That should teach him a few lessons.

On a completely different note, I also think he’s a weirdo. The other day as he was examining my simian cheek, all of a sudden he froze. “Take off your glasses...” was followed by “Nice frame, where didja get that??” I rest my case.

Right, this whole holding-cards-close-to-my-chest approach isn’t helping anyone, least of all my audience, which seems to be dwindling down from sparse to non-existent. Anyways it’s been a while since I posted anything, and that’s partly due to the lazy procrastinating $#*& that I am, and partly due to this tennis-ball sized growth on my cheek (more on that later).

So, it’s Revelation Time! I have thought, re-thought, slept, mulled and :place-verb-indicating-action-here: over it, and I think that given my career-cum-MBA goals and the whole fitting-into-place aspect of the MBA, IESE Barcelona is the place to be. Needless to say, I received my admit a couple of days before Christmas (woohoo!!), and that’s been the key reason for my overflowing Christmas spirit.

Mind you, I have had to turn down another kick-ass school AND a partial scholarship but now I seem to have made up my mind about IESE, there’s no looking back!

I somehow dislike uneventful weekends, and I just had one. On the bright side, my parents had come over to visit me and I ended up talking about the one thing that I’ve been avoiding confrontation with – finances for the MBA (the bright side was the home-made food). “Here’s how it is – I have some savings, a partial scholarship and an enormous bank loan to fund my MBA”, I tried reasoning. What I had failed to consider (rather avoided thinking about) was the enormity of the bank loan. Well let’s just say that it’s enough to buy a piece of prime real estate in Mumbai – where prices are among the highest in the world.

I know I can bank on a loan to fund my studies, but it’s going to be at the cost of putting the house we live in up as collateral. I’m not entirely comfortable with that. I wish that the school that I was admitted in had a tie up with a bank which would provide a collateral-free loan, but who says you get everything you want? I know for a fact that the other school that I haven’t yet heard from *has* one, but then they better have one, - the course is effing costly. (And I haven’t heard from them yet, so I still don’t know which country I’m going to end up in. Arrgh I hate uncertainty.)

Finally, it took enough probing from my dad for me to finally blurt out the plain fact. That if something went wrong, and god forbid I wasn’t able to finish my MBA (an illness? may be a calamity?) or I didn’t get a job after graduation (which I didn’t want to consider as both schools where I had applied were among the best) there was no bloody way I could pay back the loan, without working like an ass all my life. There. I’ve finally said it.

There’s no point dwelling on it too much. How many people drop out of a top-class MBA anyways?

Btw, people who like gore and guts and stomach churning stuff in their films, please watch Wrong Turn. Whetted my appetite alright.