What I lost..

I lost 14 kilos over the past year, not a big deal for many, but for me it was everything!

Last year, during my sabbatical, since I had absolutely nothing to do, I was forced to look at how I lived my life, and it was startling! I looked in the mirror, and someone I couldn't recognize looked back at me. It was someone dependent on (ultra-processed) food to stabilize my mood, someone who couldn't get rid of her joint pains (because of Chikungunya), someone who lay in bed/on the couch watching brain rot all day. I was just going through the motions, on autopilot. If that continued, I would have spiralled to a darker place never to surface again; the mere thought of it scares me now.

During the same time, I watched a movie called "YOLO". It is a Chinese movie about an obese girl, who gets walked all over by everyone, because she's made to think that she's worth nothing due to her obesity. One fine day she comes across a boxing club, and decides to join, because she needs to win at least once. That is when her transformation from obese to 'fitness goals' starts.

Watching that movie flipped a switch in me. That switch was desperately waiting to be flipped, but the movie was a catalyst.

I have wanted to slim down ever since I was a 10, when a random auntie came up and told my mom that I, an average-sized kid, had become fat (rant for another time).

But this time it wasn't about slimming down or losing weight; it was more than that. The superficiality of it had gone. I genuinely wanted to get better mentally and physically, lead a healthier lifestyle, and not be a zombie! This time it was more than just that usual fitness wave, which lasts for all of one or two months, where I start strong and enthusiastic, lose motivation and then go back to being a sloth.

That's when I decided to add some discipline to my life, go cold turkey on all ultra-processed, packaged foods, basically all food that wasn't cooked at home, and start working out regularly.

The first month was torture! Temptations everywhere! The old me wouldn't have been able to resist, and would have given in to the cycle of guilt, but the new me didn't find it as difficult as the past few failed attempts. The resolve in my mind made it bearable. I also stated working out 6 times a week, followed a schedule created by my father, who took it upon himself to train me (after I asked him to, of course). We went on runs, thrice a week, and did weight training the other three days. At first, the runs especially felt like death was chasing me, later on, it became bearable, and then I started enjoying it all! The dopamine rush trumped all the pain and the 'death-y' feeling when I ran or worked out. By the end of the month, my clothes started to fit better, all the inflammation and water retention were gone, and I started feeling like myself again. By the end of the second month, people had started to notice, and I started getting compliments (enter: my high horse, which is still there).

It was a very gradual process; I never noticed any change other than the clothes bit, while it was happening. But I trusted the process, and looking back, I see a huge difference.

It's not just in the numbers on the weighing scale or inches off my waist. The difference is more psychological than physical for me. My whole demeanor changed (what everyone told me). I started feeling fresher, more energetic, my natural laugh came back, and somehow I found my voice again, which had drowned out in a sea of insecurities.

It's been a year since I started that lifestyle, and I still try to continue it. It does get difficult sometimes, given my work and social life. But now whenever I falter, the guilt doesn't eat me alive. Just as my relationship with food has improved, so has my relationship with myself, and I love it!