Tipping the Scales

Image courtesy: Google

This post is going to be an incredibly personal one for me. I tend to deviate from talking about this, but life sometimes sucks. Especially when you are a foodie who has to stay away from good food in order to stay fit. Going through a scary teenage, I found solace in junk food. I loved my burgers and french fries. Chocolates and ice creams made my world a better one. 

I would eat when I was bored, angry, stressed or simply watching TV. Yeah, you heard that right. I LOVED LOVE food. I tried not to notice the odd bulges around my tummy. I preferred to dress in shapeless clothes that tried not to show too much of my waistline. But sometime last year, I realized that my health was travlling downhill at a neck breaking speed. 

I started working out regularly. Not just because people made fun, but because I consciously felt the need to. Though I had tried to lose weight unsuccessfully in the past, I realized that in order for any plan to work, you need to stick to it with a dedication. So rather than abandoning my work out plan half way, I stuck to it religiously. Though it can hardly be called a work out plan, those baby steps started to work for me. 

Yes, there are days when I feel like switching off the treadmill and calling it a day, there are days when the long accumulated fat on my body literally cries out to stop harassing. But seeing those weighing scales tip backward, albeit very slowly, was rewarding enough. I wish I could tell that I lost couple of kgs in a week like some people I have been reading about. In my case, try more of a couple of months. 

Though the fat started going reluctantly, I started to enjoy the feel of sweat drenched tshirts and the sheer sense of accomplishment at the end of each session. Yes, my hard work was beginning to pay off. It was hard to stay off guilty pleasures called chocolates and ice creams for a long time. Yet, I reduced my intake. I would ocasssionaly reward myself the Hershey's bar from time to time. But the working out part somehow made me feel not-so-guilty. I know that it hardly makes sense, but it works for me. 

Today, I'm delighted that most of my old clothes look a tad baggy on me. I finally have something which can be called remotely close to a decent waistline. I finally feel comfortable in my own skin. I'm enjoying my skinny jeans and leggings without looking or feeling awkward. I do crave a cheesy pizza or two from time to time. And I make sure I have that slice lest I end up thinking about it the whole while like a pizza deprived being. 

But the biggest lesson that I learnt in this journey is that I love my body way too much. Rather than cribbing about it, I decided to do something about it. And for the first time in a long time, I can confidently say, I wouldn't swap my body for a thing in this world.