I recently went through a really long and painful breakup. It was quite a tough and strenuous process but I can say that I’m much better off now. I broke up with my fat and it’s been a year since we’ve bumped into each other. That’s the problem, whether you have GF [good fat] or BF [bad fat] they are eventually part of the same family and it’s imperative that you break up with them for good health.

Love at first bite

14 years ago, fat and I first met. For us, it was love at first bite and we just couldn’t let go of each other since. A year ago, I was 86 kilos. A feat I had accomplished while living on a diet of cheese, ghee, butter and every other fattening food item that a child needs to develop his chance of succeeding at having a heart attack.

For a long time I was in utopia. I didn’t care about my weight nor did I care about my looks. As long as I did not remove my shirt, my friends were happy to be around me and I never hit on any woman… because I was in a committed relationship—with my obese body. One day I ran up a slope and I ended up panting and sounding like Darth Vader having an asthma attack. That’s when I realised how tremendously unfit I was.

Gym… what’s that?

I knew I needed to break up with my fat and move on. It all changed the day a gym opened up near my house. Proximity triumphed over laziness and I decided to try out a little exercise. So far, the only marathon I had ever run was the dream run, where I would dream of running someday.

Now, I don’t like going to a gym and hanging out with men who are way better looking and fitter than I am. I think, secretly they’re trying to prove to each other how their big muscles are good enough to compensate for their smaller… um… brains. Yet, I put all my prejudices aside and pledged myself to a cycle of furious exercises with the help of a personal trainer.

For all those who don’t know, a personal trainer is just a human alarm clock and counting machine to help you lose weight. All you need to do to become a personal trainer is know how to count till 10 in English and then offer encouraging words such as ‘come on’, ‘you can do it’, ‘my mother has bigger muscles’ [I think my trainer had issues].

Having the ‘talk’

It’s a year down the line; I am 18 kilos lighter and as fit as I could ever be. Losing this much weight was like breaking up with a really stubborn girlfriend, because she’s not going to let you go without leaving a few marks.

To elucidate, breaking up with my fat went something along the lines of:

Me: Hey we need to talk.

Fat: Just a minute, do I look good here or should I move to your shoulder?

Me: You don’t look good anywhere. Listen, I think we need to talk. It’s high time we take a break.

Fat: Not now. I am depositing myself around your chest. Have you considered buying a bra?

Me: No. I need some space. You’ve been sticking to me for far too long. I think I need to start seeing healthier food items.

Fat: Don’t you dare abandon me! Cheese and butter for life—that was our motto when we started. What’s her name? It’s salad, na? I thought you had a thing for her. I noticed it the other day when you came home and you had a ranch dressing stain on your shirt.

Me: It’s not that, baby.

Fat: Listen, just because I’m baby fat, it doesn’t give you the right to call me that.

Me: Well, it’s over. We’re done.

Fat: Fine, if this is what you want. Go ahead. Live your life. You will go the gym and see me crying. Maybe I’ll go away. But remember… I will always be there just waiting for you.

Fat people are cannibals

It’s kind of a disgusting thought but that’s what I believe sweat is, just my fat crying every single time I try to remove it from my life.

Being a fat guy was tough. I used to hate other people because everyone feels that it’s their right to make fun of you. This one time I was sitting in a bus and there was a father and his small daughter sitting opposite me. The daughter was making a lot of noise and the father looked at me, then his daughter and said “Beta, be quiet or else! Do you see that uncle over there?”

At this point of time I was preparing myself to look as menacing as possible so I could scare the child… until her father said those shocking words “That uncle will eat you up.”

Eat her up? What do you think I am? A cannibal? I’m not one, and even if I was, I’m Indian so I would be a vegetarian cannibal [not quite sure how that would work out though].

Life post the breakup

Now that I’m thin, it’s the reverse. Every single day is filled with compliments from people telling me how great I look. I hear things like “You’re looking so good” or “You’ve lost so much weight. Wow! That is so awesome” or “You are so handsome” to which I always reply “Thanks mom”. [But apart from my mother I do know at least two women who have called me handsome!]

It’s the compliments that motivate me to stay thin. Every single compliment that I get makes me realise that I made the best decision of my life. Once in a while when I’m eating a cheese sandwich, I think about the old days and smile. Then I put the sandwich down and prepare myself to run on the path of good health. I may not make it till the end, but at least I know I won’t sound like Darth Vader having an asthma attack!

This was first published in the September 2014 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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