There’s a Goa holiday coming up. It’s been on the calendar for weeks—mocking me like a mirage while I power through endless meetings, overflowing inboxes, and late-night video calls where someone always says “Let’s just do one quick alignment.” At 11:17 PM.

Meanwhile, in parallel reality, my friends—bless their high-protein souls—have been prepping for this trip like it’s a Vogue swimsuit shoot. For the last few weeks, it’s been gym check-ins, hyrox trainings, and mysterious powders labelled “pre-workout and creatine.” They’ve dropped inches. They glow. One of them casually asked me if I was “packing my bikins”

I said yes. I meant sunscreen.

I, on the other hand, seem to have entered my bulking phase—accidentally. While they’ve been spiraling over macros, I’ve been emotionally eating bread at midnight and trying to finish work decks in positions that would offend any orthopedic specialist.

And yet—we are all getting on the same flight. The WhatsApp group is a mix of dramatic outfit crisis updates, passive-aggressive packing lists, and excitement around the photoshoots they all will do! There’s already a spat for shacks that we need to visit. Someone else wants “at least a few days of cardio.” I said I’ll watch.

But here’s the truth: I wouldn’t change a thing.

Because while none of us are truly ready, we’re going together. With our uneven tan lines, questionable wardrobes, and wildly different fitness journeys. We’ll laugh too loudly, fight over food orders, end up with too many fries, and create a level of chaos only old friends can survive.

Goa’s not ready. Neither are we. But it’s happening. And it’s going to be glorious!