Diary of a Cheerleader

Dear Diary,

I just woke up and somehow survived another night in this 40 degree heat. I still have creepy men waiting outside my hotel room. I’m not sure if they’re the same ones who followed me to the hotel room last night or if they’re here to serve me breakfast. But either way, attention is kinda what I live for, that’s why I dance half-naked in front of 40,000 strangers knowing that Chris Gayle is possibly peeking at all the flesh above my knees.

I’m so hungry right now. Like, how do they not serve low-fat granola with almond milk? Can you believe they don’t even serve green smoothies? When I asked for a green smoothie at the hotel reception yesterday, I received blended betel leaf. That’s *not* what I meant by ‘green smoothie’. If there is no almond milk, I could do with some semi-skimmed milk. They should at least have semi-skimmed milk, since all the cows I see on the road are really super skinny, so it only makes sense their milk is low fat. Right?

Speaking of food – tasting the delicacies of India has always been a dream of mine because I can only really eat food in my dreams. I only feed on tomatoes, lettuce and the endless attention I receive from Indian cricket fans. Someone had mentioned that one bite of an Indian snack could raise your cholesterol levels and take you up an extra dress size because they’re so fattening, so I’ve done really well and stayed away from them. Danny Morrison would never be able to lift me on his shoulders if I ever put on any weight. That would be a nightmare.

But yesterday during the game, I could smell the fresh pakoras outside the stadium and I just couldn’t resist. After eating 10 succulent, finger licking good pakoras in a row, it was unfortunate that I had to dance for six consecutive boundaries. FML. I immediately pounced on the opportunity to get my hands on some food just how Gambhir pounces on the opportunity of giving a death stare to his teammates after every fielding mishap (he has given me a few stares too for no apparent reason). Yes, I’ve watched plenty of KKR games, even I know the ins and outs of cricket. It took me a while to understand what a home-run is, but I think I finally got it.

I really hope I don’t have to perform looking like a Bharat Natyam dancer at any point, I’ve never performed in so much clothing before – just imagine how uncomfortable that would be. And I’ve done some uncomfortable things on stage, the other day I was asked to seduce an umpire with a cart of apples and a cricket ball. Priya, one of my cheerleader friends who I met in our seminar ‘How To Avoid Eye Contact With Indian Men With Thick Moustaches’, looked like a beautiful Indian princess yesterday when she performed. But she’s used to wearing multiple layers despite the heat and keeping over eighty percent of her body covered.


I just love to dance with no limitations, I must feel that my soul is free to get into the feel of the music and dance in total sync with my gals. I truly believe that some of our routines are just as good as Beyonce’s music videos with her backup dancers. I guess nobody has noticed that because the loud music tearing through age-old speakers rented from a local DJ has probably burst their ear drums probably affecting their vision. I read somewhere that the ear canal is sorta connected to the eyeball because of evolution and stuff.

But today, I’m at my hotel on my day off, because dancing for 2 minutes at a time can be really tiring. I think I’ve also pulled a cheek muscle because I’ve had to put on a fake laugh so many times in front of the commentators. Can someone please send them to joke school? They’re costing me my cheek muscles here!

I am going to take a nap before another creep comes up with an excuse to get into my pants.

Catch you later!


Posted in IPL