Written April 17th 2011, 6pm
In the summer of 2009, my 5’ 10’’ frame was supporting around 14st 7 of chunky goodness. If you’re wondering what that means in terms of BMI, it placed me somewhere between overweight and Eric Cartman.
With a 14 hour a day sedentary desk job and a weekend schedule akin to an episode of “Booze Britain” my waistline was headed only one way. Clearly something had to change.
Being a consultant, I obviously began setting out and subsequently ruling out a set of strategic options.
(1) Healthy diet?
Nope. Like food.
(2) Exercise?
Nope. Lazy.
(3) Surgery?
Nope. Stupid.
(4) 6 months travelling around the world?
Bingo.
OK true, weight loss obviously wasn’t the only factor that helped me to decide on a 6 month global jolly with the future missus but nonetheless it was a happy side effect. Walking around looking at beautiful / interesting things, eating loads of foreign food, drinking less and, probably most importantly, sweating more than a Gaddafi body double (Zing! Bursting with topical content right here) for the best part of six months led me to return at a waif-like 12st 10.
I’m not going to lie, I quickly grew quite fond of this new bloke - less sweaty during everyday activity (damn you Piccadilly line!), happy in non-baggy clothing and with boundless energy. The sub-13st fine specimen of a man stuck around for almost the whole of 2010. Almost.
Damn. You. Christmas.
2011 started and the scales starting tipping the wrong way. 13-2, 3, 4, 5 – and that’s where they settle today. Sadly, when I looked back at my options, (3) and (4) are totally off the table due to financial constraints. Leaving me with salad and running. The target has been set – 12st 7 by the wedding, let’s see how that goes…
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