As far back as I can remember, I've always had a bit of a corpulence problem. I mean, there's only so much you can attribute to "big bones" right? Ha! Big bones - that's probably the number 1 go-to excuse for anyone who's even slightly overweight. I'm no different, am I? (Plus the fact that I've got a medical degree comes in handy when you want people to believe every random "medical" fact you put out) The fact that, growing up, Fredrick Algernon Trotteville and Tubby Tompkins were about the only people I could relate to didn't really help. Save for the glorious summer of 2001 where as a 7th grader, I finally hit my growth spurt and got stretched - thereby becoming part of the skinny club for a short time, I've always really been, to put it mildly, swinging between "pleasantly chubby" and Paunchy McPauncherson.
I've not really been "one of those athletic types". That's being extremely kind. I suck at sports, basically. Give me a game, and I'll find a way to be bad at it. Cricket - I could and still can, play one stroke - the sweep, and not too well. I love telling the world I played Tennis - but that was 15 years ago - so it doesn't count. I tried playing Football, but mostly lumbered around playing the defender - which was occasionally helpful, considering my size allowed me to boss a few opponents around. (Translated: I stood right there, and they made numerous attempts to get past. Considering the lack of referees, my kicks to the shin just about saved my teams an odd goal or so. Don't ask me how many I let in). Badminton's the only sport where I'm passing grade - for an amateur sub-district level player. Why do I feel the need to write this - well Sports wasn't the answer - and I'd realized that long ago.
To be completely fair, my issues with my rotundness weren't for a lack of trying. At least, not a complete lack of trying. I had two barely successful stints at the gym a few years ago. Two months each time - and all I managed was to not put on any additional weight. It was a routine - start excited, lose excitement in a week followed by sleepwalking through my rotations at the gym for an hour, followed by a day long rant of how I was distinctly aware of every single muscle in my body. An obvious attempt in futility, then? The rest consisted of brief spurts, week-long I guess, of "trying new things" - a Cindy Crawford exercise CD lasted longer than expected - but that was for reasons completely unrelated to losing weight. To this day, upper lip moles automatically result in a few calories shed.
The only time I've been successful is Second Year MBBS. I'd basically hit my nervous nineties if you will, and finally decided to do something about it. That "something", and I swear I can't quite explain it, wasn't a lot. I guess the only thing I really stuck to was that I stopped snacking completely. That coupled with a run with Dollar in the evenings led me to enjoy my biggest loss in life - 9 kilos, and proud of it. Yes, I started snacking again. Yes, I gained all of it back, and more. But for one year, I could fit into a few old pants again - oh, what joy! I guess I've been basking in that solitary glory all along.
So, what prompted this second serious attempt to shed the whale blubber as I put it? Thanks to Mum. Basically, I realized I could fit into barely 3 shorts of mine and Mum steadfastly refused to buy me any new ones. Now, this would prompt that occasional reader to ask why I couldn't get off my ass and go buy a few myself - and to that I say - isn't everything I've said so far evidence enough? I'm as lazy as they come. And exercising at home for a while seemed a better poison, compared to dragging my butt into (gasp) a shopping mall.
And so it began. A week ago. This time, I've decided to be honest. Last chance before I absolutely need to buy all new clothes, right?. So far, it's been jogging/running in the morning, and the Tekdi's come to the rescue here - with jump rope, weights, push-ups and sit-ups for a 45 min workout in the evening. I'm happy to say I've stuck to it so far. So, today, when after a "dedicated week" I stepped on to the scales - I found out - that I'd gained two whole pounds!!! I'd have given up at this stage in all of my previous attempts. This time, I'm carrying on. The only casualty of the week's been the weighing scale. Hey, someone had to pay! Let's just say the weighing scale and I took a long walk, and one of us returned. And this isn't the scale typing.
I've not really been "one of those athletic types". That's being extremely kind. I suck at sports, basically. Give me a game, and I'll find a way to be bad at it. Cricket - I could and still can, play one stroke - the sweep, and not too well. I love telling the world I played Tennis - but that was 15 years ago - so it doesn't count. I tried playing Football, but mostly lumbered around playing the defender - which was occasionally helpful, considering my size allowed me to boss a few opponents around. (Translated: I stood right there, and they made numerous attempts to get past. Considering the lack of referees, my kicks to the shin just about saved my teams an odd goal or so. Don't ask me how many I let in). Badminton's the only sport where I'm passing grade - for an amateur sub-district level player. Why do I feel the need to write this - well Sports wasn't the answer - and I'd realized that long ago.
To be completely fair, my issues with my rotundness weren't for a lack of trying. At least, not a complete lack of trying. I had two barely successful stints at the gym a few years ago. Two months each time - and all I managed was to not put on any additional weight. It was a routine - start excited, lose excitement in a week followed by sleepwalking through my rotations at the gym for an hour, followed by a day long rant of how I was distinctly aware of every single muscle in my body. An obvious attempt in futility, then? The rest consisted of brief spurts, week-long I guess, of "trying new things" - a Cindy Crawford exercise CD lasted longer than expected - but that was for reasons completely unrelated to losing weight. To this day, upper lip moles automatically result in a few calories shed.
The only time I've been successful is Second Year MBBS. I'd basically hit my nervous nineties if you will, and finally decided to do something about it. That "something", and I swear I can't quite explain it, wasn't a lot. I guess the only thing I really stuck to was that I stopped snacking completely. That coupled with a run with Dollar in the evenings led me to enjoy my biggest loss in life - 9 kilos, and proud of it. Yes, I started snacking again. Yes, I gained all of it back, and more. But for one year, I could fit into a few old pants again - oh, what joy! I guess I've been basking in that solitary glory all along.
So, what prompted this second serious attempt to shed the whale blubber as I put it? Thanks to Mum. Basically, I realized I could fit into barely 3 shorts of mine and Mum steadfastly refused to buy me any new ones. Now, this would prompt that occasional reader to ask why I couldn't get off my ass and go buy a few myself - and to that I say - isn't everything I've said so far evidence enough? I'm as lazy as they come. And exercising at home for a while seemed a better poison, compared to dragging my butt into (gasp) a shopping mall.
And so it began. A week ago. This time, I've decided to be honest. Last chance before I absolutely need to buy all new clothes, right?. So far, it's been jogging/running in the morning, and the Tekdi's come to the rescue here - with jump rope, weights, push-ups and sit-ups for a 45 min workout in the evening. I'm happy to say I've stuck to it so far. So, today, when after a "dedicated week" I stepped on to the scales - I found out - that I'd gained two whole pounds!!! I'd have given up at this stage in all of my previous attempts. This time, I'm carrying on. The only casualty of the week's been the weighing scale. Hey, someone had to pay! Let's just say the weighing scale and I took a long walk, and one of us returned. And this isn't the scale typing.
