I pulled out a pair of trousers to wear to work this morning, and couldn't, because it's two sizes too big for me, and I don't have the right kind of belt to wear with it.
Two weeks ago, I wore a pair of green trousers I had bought on a whim three years ago, and not worn in two years, because it now fits.
Two weeks before that, I checked my weight in the morning, and saw that for the first time in more than almost three years, my weight was finally - finally - in the normal BMI range.
Over the past six months, I've lost more than twenty pounds - or ten kgs. I'm still at the edge of what would be a normal BMI range for me though, especially since I'm a short, short person. I have to lose another ten pounds, or just under 5 kgs, to be what is the ideal weight for me.
I wish I could tell you this is a story of great determination that they can make an Oscar-winning movie about. It's really not.
For years, the family's been trying to nudge me towards a more healthy lifestyle - be it in terms of what I eat, how active I am, or anything. I resisted all efforts, because pooh, your family will always think you're fat, especially since they're the kind of people who never put on weight no matter how much they eat, and think anyone who weighs more than them (which is 75% of the world) is overweight. And since most of my friends are the super supportive kind of people who always tell me I'm fine, obviously I chose to believe the folks who were saying what I wanted to hear.
Didn't really matter what my weighing scales, my clothes, or blood tests were saying.
So when I came back to the US, I talked to a couple of friends, and we kinda sorta got going on getting me to lose weight. I started going for walks at lunch a couple of times a week. I didn't really change anything else in my life, but told myself this was a good first step.
Then, six months ago, I finally found a doctor to go to in the area, and get a routine checkup done. She asked me to get blood tests done, and when the results came back, I was told have diabetes. Borderline, but there it is.
The family reacted in fairly predictable ways: the father started looking up links and sending them to me as reading material, the mother wanted to know what she could do, and started forwarding whatsapp forwards on how to deal with diabetes that I would delete without reading (anything that comes via Whatsapp and is longer than my screen, I'm not reading), and the brother said, and I quote, "Oh? Well, maybe this will make you take your health more seriously." I could feel the love, you guys.
And it kinda, sorta did. A friend and I joined the gym at work. And when I say we joined a gym, I mean we'd go twice a week, I'd put on a show on Hulu on my tablet, and I'd walk on the treadmill for the 45 minutes it would take me to watch the show.
So between the walking at lunch, the walking on the treadmill, and the medication I was put on, I began to lose weight. A lot of it. And even when all this walking pretty much came to a stop three months ago because things got a little crazy all round, I still continued to lose something like half a pound a week because that medicine I'm on is a magical medicine.
As a result, when I showed up for the wedding six weeks ago, I was looking pretty awesome. And I did have to run around getting half my outfits altered. So I suppose you could say that I kept my promise to lose weight by the wedding.
Since coming back, I haven't gone for any walks, and I've been to the gym twice. My diet never really changed, and it continues to be the same. But I've still lost another two pounds, although it seems to be holding steady there. So if I want to lose those last ten pounds, effort will be required. And the diet definitely needs to be brought under control (Sidebar: Parents, I am eating fine, I just need to start measuring, don't start commenting or whatsapping me as soon as you read this. Shuye poro. End sidebar.).
I'm to see my doctor again next month, and get a blood test done too, so we'll see where we actually are healthwise. And weightwise, well, I guess I'll see where we are there as well.
(I just re-read this entire post, and this is the worst constructed timeline possible. Uff.)
Two weeks ago, I wore a pair of green trousers I had bought on a whim three years ago, and not worn in two years, because it now fits.
Two weeks before that, I checked my weight in the morning, and saw that for the first time in more than almost three years, my weight was finally - finally - in the normal BMI range.
Over the past six months, I've lost more than twenty pounds - or ten kgs. I'm still at the edge of what would be a normal BMI range for me though, especially since I'm a short, short person. I have to lose another ten pounds, or just under 5 kgs, to be what is the ideal weight for me.
I wish I could tell you this is a story of great determination that they can make an Oscar-winning movie about. It's really not.
For years, the family's been trying to nudge me towards a more healthy lifestyle - be it in terms of what I eat, how active I am, or anything. I resisted all efforts, because pooh, your family will always think you're fat, especially since they're the kind of people who never put on weight no matter how much they eat, and think anyone who weighs more than them (which is 75% of the world) is overweight. And since most of my friends are the super supportive kind of people who always tell me I'm fine, obviously I chose to believe the folks who were saying what I wanted to hear.
Didn't really matter what my weighing scales, my clothes, or blood tests were saying.
A year ago, when the brother announced (formally) he was getting married, I vaguely promised myself I'd lose weight by the wedding. Ten months ago, when the wedding timeline moved up by a year or so, I thought of the promise and told myself I should do something about it. Seven months ago, when I went home and bought most of my outfits for the wedding in two days, I told our utterly unreliable darzi that he'd hopefully have to alter everything in two days when I came back for the wedding.
So when I came back to the US, I talked to a couple of friends, and we kinda sorta got going on getting me to lose weight. I started going for walks at lunch a couple of times a week. I didn't really change anything else in my life, but told myself this was a good first step.
Then, six months ago, I finally found a doctor to go to in the area, and get a routine checkup done. She asked me to get blood tests done, and when the results came back, I was told have diabetes. Borderline, but there it is.
The family reacted in fairly predictable ways: the father started looking up links and sending them to me as reading material, the mother wanted to know what she could do, and started forwarding whatsapp forwards on how to deal with diabetes that I would delete without reading (anything that comes via Whatsapp and is longer than my screen, I'm not reading), and the brother said, and I quote, "Oh? Well, maybe this will make you take your health more seriously." I could feel the love, you guys.
And it kinda, sorta did. A friend and I joined the gym at work. And when I say we joined a gym, I mean we'd go twice a week, I'd put on a show on Hulu on my tablet, and I'd walk on the treadmill for the 45 minutes it would take me to watch the show.
So between the walking at lunch, the walking on the treadmill, and the medication I was put on, I began to lose weight. A lot of it. And even when all this walking pretty much came to a stop three months ago because things got a little crazy all round, I still continued to lose something like half a pound a week because that medicine I'm on is a magical medicine.
As a result, when I showed up for the wedding six weeks ago, I was looking pretty awesome. And I did have to run around getting half my outfits altered. So I suppose you could say that I kept my promise to lose weight by the wedding.
Since coming back, I haven't gone for any walks, and I've been to the gym twice. My diet never really changed, and it continues to be the same. But I've still lost another two pounds, although it seems to be holding steady there. So if I want to lose those last ten pounds, effort will be required. And the diet definitely needs to be brought under control (Sidebar: Parents, I am eating fine, I just need to start measuring, don't start commenting or whatsapping me as soon as you read this. Shuye poro. End sidebar.).
I'm to see my doctor again next month, and get a blood test done too, so we'll see where we actually are healthwise. And weightwise, well, I guess I'll see where we are there as well.
(I just re-read this entire post, and this is the worst constructed timeline possible. Uff.)
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