Post Rugby World Cup final, I decided to lose some weight which had crept up on me over the last couple of years (reference: 30 months ago I was 80kg, and got to 93 last month). After getting a strict system sorted out for me by Jay at Bodytech, I announced my month-long mission at work which quickly prompted money being thrown around, bets laid, bravado blustered, and challenges set forth.
It was tough but not revolutionary in any way, and took considerable will power, discipline and a healthy dose of fear – I refused to become a fat, bald forty something creative director wearing a slobby slogan t-shirt. Lean meat, fresh veges, no alcohol, six Vitawheat crackers a day, fruit, and lots of fizzy water to give my body the illusion of being full. I measured portions on scales every day, and weighed myself every morning. I endured coming home to a wonderfully fragrant house filled with baking I could not enjoy. I drank water at the movies while others licked ice-creams. I bought bottles of wine for everyone but me. I was afraid to go out because it invariably involved drinking, eating or coffee, none of which I could enjoy. I did go out for a drink with my friend Nick and sat there drinking sparkling water while he regaled me with stories of cuckoo clocks and film commission horror stories, which I was transfixed by a) because they were interesting, and b) it meant I wasn’t thinking about his beer or my empty stomach. Instead of socialising I mainly visited the supermarket, often. Party time. I went from hating grocery shopping to looking forward to wandering down the aisles, imagining tastes, possibilities, ideas.
It was half difficult, half satisfying, coping with a breakfast of one solitary apple, 210g of natural yoghurt and an espresso (and am now completely satisfied with that as a full and satisfying brekky). While pleasantly surprised by the size of my other meals, there was always a sense of constant hunger, until the pain just became a part of my day. One day I drove home so hungry it honestly felt as if I had been stabbed in the stomach. The hunger made me quite absent minded at nights when I would run out of gas, forgetting names of stuff like forks, bottles and… things.
I did it to lose weight, but also to shock me out of my lazy, gluttonous lifestyle. And changes started happening quickly. Although often tired (I am a father of two with a full on job), I no longer had energy peaks and troughs from eating carbs and sweet stuff. I have never slept better. I was forced to learn about preparing fresh food, flavouring bland veges with herbs, the joy of cinnamon and the magic of balsamic and olive oil. You appreciate the things you can’t have: at an agency lunch, I sniffed a Peroni – it smelt like flowers. I ate Tuna for the first time in my life and had fish (usually snapper) at least six times a week with the help of some butter and Soy sauce (allowed in the diet, oddly).
I couldn’t have done it without a wonderful supporting partner, my wife Jude, who happily fended for herself when I was so obsessed with exact portions that to cook for two was too hard. She comes from a family that quite rightly centres life on food, the preparation of it and the conversation around it, so it was also a challenge for her; ironically the experience has made me appreciate this way of living even more than I already had.
I occasionally went off-piste with my strict diet in the most pathetic way possible. At night, I would eat a single raisin just to taste something sweet. I often had a second espresso, partly because I love coffee and partly to get things going in my digestive system… if you get what I mean.
And then it was over (well, it wasn’t that simple, there were many long dark tea-times of the soul, to quote Douglas Adams). I missed my goal of getting to an even 85kg by 150 grams. But good enough. It was thanksgiving in the US so, being an american agency, we did a little celebration with proper New York pizza from Sal’s, and a box of beers. I ate two huge slices and felt full. I ate half a cupcake with cream so rich it was nauseating. I drank half a US beer and put it down – although that may have been a taste issue, or lack thereof. I was literally frightened of carbs having eaten half a small pastry and felt ill in my stomach. I got over it pretty quick that evening out with some mates and celebrated with 6 Macs Golds and a bowl of hot chips.
Will it last? I don’t know. This morning I had an apple again for breakfast and I’m about to make a Tuna Salad. I do weigh 1.5kg more than I did yesterday already – that’ll be the beer and pizza. My lifestyle has definitely changed, and I don’t want to get back to where I was. So I’m getting another diet plan from Jay and we’ll see how I can maintain this thing.
I’d like to lose bits of my fat without losing bits of my life.
(For the record, I didn’t win the bet. Simmo, or Slimmo as we call him, lost a whopping amount – 13.8kgs. When I met him just over a year ago he was 115kg. He weighed in at 82.25 yesterday. All hail the champion!)
