No time to waist
The war is back on. Tough times up ahead, but it’s on. And this time, it’s personal… Well, technically, it has always been personal. Internal fights with your own body are usually personal by definition. It’s how it works. But let’s not get hung on semantics here… What’s important is that the battle of the bulge is engaged.
Even casual readers of the BBYYs may have observed that there is a fair bit of ‘literature’ on this site about fat control. Ever since I passed out of high school, my waistline has been on an exponential growth curve; on the fast track to the top of the fat chart. My parents are already worried about not being able to reach around me for a hug. If the trend continues unabated, I will have to glue two belts together to hold my pants up by 2015, and by 2035, I would be large enough to exert a gravitational pull that could disrupt satellite transmission and possibly attract asteroids leading up to Armageddon. This, of course, would be unacceptable. I can’t afford to have satellite disruptions. And there are some objections to Armageddon as well.
And my less than hilarious comedian friends were not helping with their wry comments either…
“Hey, Hamish… you need to lose, like what… 100 pounds?”
“Hundred pounds my foot, jackass”
“Hundred pounds your foot? Yeah, that sounds about right”
“I felt some ground tremors last night… I thought it was an earthquake, but nothing was reported. Hamish… by any chance, were you dancing around midnight last night?”
“Hamish! It’s not Christmas yet… Why are you dressed up as Santa Claus?”
“Oh, ok… it’s just a red shirt. My bad”
“I’m telling you the cops take riots seriously. Just yesterday, they were going around dispersing small groups huddled together. I saw this one cop talking to this crowd, shooing them away, asking them to split up… It took him half an hour to realize that it wasn’t a crowd a all… it was just Hamish”
“Hey, the news yesterday said there’s a famine in India. Hamish… you went for a visit home, and didn’t tell us?”
It is for this reason that I decided to take up weight loss programs a bit more seriously. It was time for me to sit up and do something about it. But I had taken similar resolves before… What went wrong then? The approaches taken back then may have been slightly misguided… I had tried blogging and ranting about my weight online. It didn’t help. I tried joining a slimming clinic back in Bangalore, but they insisted that I attend sessions regularly, and ultimately, the only weight I lost was from my wallet. Some of my close relatives tried praying, but with regard to my bulk, the good lord may have giveth in abundance, but was not as keen about the ‘taketh it away’ part. And sitting at my desk writing about how I need to take things seriously – apparently doesn’t count as taking things seriously. For the same reason, sitting up and taking notice wasn’t enough either… unless I repeat the cycle of sitting up and taking notice about 500 times a day.
So what went wrong? I blame movies. No, not just because I have spent roughly one third of my life watching, re-watching, chatting, talking and writing about movies… but because of the simplistic ways they often tackle real life situations. Every time I took up the gauntlet to start shedding weight, my plans had been subconsciously about losing weight by movie montage – where I start exercising to the backdrop of “Eye of the tiger” and by the end of the song, I get trim enough to model for fashion magazines. This way, I figured, I could quit halfway into the song so that I get trim enough for normal human beings and stop before I mutate into a fashion model.
But those movie montages don’t ever really work. World boxing champions don’t train in 5 minutes. Dorky Dorkinson from junior high doesn’t change into a teenage heartthrob after a makeup session that basically shows him removing his glasses and combing his hair. And the only way to lose weight in five minutes would be through amputation. So I had to do something different. I had to diet. And I had to exercise. Both aspects are dreadful, from the point of view of a lazy foodie. But there was no shortcut to take. What had to be done, had to be done. At the same time, I had to recognize what I could do, what I could not…
So it has been a while since I’ve written an entry… or even an entrée. I wish I could say that it was because I was rigorously and religiously exercising… But the truth is that my time was consumed by work. Work has been unusually hectic recently. As some of you know, by day I’m a mild mannered Market Researcher, but by night, I am a mild mannered procrastinating blogger.
But despite my work schedule, I managed to stick to my workout routine… Well, let’s say there was a brief period when my rigor and commitment to a rigid workout schedule went uncompromised. And as a result, today, there is less Hamish to go around than there was three months ago. That brief period was extremely productive. There is still a long way to go to be ‘fit as a fiddle’, not that I am particularly partial to fiddles, mind you. If my rigor during ‘that brief period’ had continued, I would now have been ‘thin as a flute’.
But the thinning down comes with its own problems. Let’s say that I successfully trim down to the right proportions and cease to resemble the Michelin man. There is an opportunity cost to be considered. There would be a level of restraint to be shown at buffet tables and restaurants all over the world – a type of restraint previously unknown to the Hammy persona. I would also lose out on many topics that I could have put up on the site here… not to mention the potentially lucrative career as a Michelin man impersonator. But I’m willing to risk it all, though. So I’m gonna keep my fingers crossed… unless I’m asked to do push-ups, of course, in which case I’m going to have to uncross my fingers. I’ll need both hands completely to signal ‘no way, dad’.