Pound for Pound

“Go figure.”

I grew up the 98 pound guy you’d see in front of the Flag Ceremony line, which makes me acutely aware of the gut-wrenching irony that I am now twenty five pounds heavier, about eight pounds above my ideal weight, and struggling very hard to lose the extra baggage on my belly. The dates of the Capping Ceremony and Acquaintance Party are fast approaching and I’m desperate for a quick fix- nothing drastic, but nevertheless effective.

Not that I believe people should show up at these occasions looking like they’ve just stepped out of the cover of Vogue. I hate to turn into one of those people whose primary obsession is to look like Angelina Jolie, when in truth, the only thing that remotely resembles the Hollywood actress in them are their appendices. But still, I’d want to be able to look at pictures years later and say, “I looked good.” A bit narcissistic, but who isn’t concerned about how they look anyway?

It all started when I began working out at the gym, with the intention of gaining muscle bulk. I started to fill in my clothes, thereby conquering that “totoy” look I’ve always had. That was fine until I lacked the time to go to the gym- the thrice a week schedule became twice a week, then twice a week to once a week, then never. The one thing my trainer neglected to tell me was that I was apt to gain weight dramatically (and this time with adipose tissue!!) once I stopped working out.


Biguerlai and other bigger lies

When people started remarking that I was becoming chubby, I paid no heed. That was until one day when teachers would comment on the extra bulk- that sent me reeling to the nearest ATM. Armed with a handful of bills, I enrolled at a nearby gym, bought some health foods, and bought enough slimming teas, diet pills and diet drinks that would put any model with an eating disorder to shame.

It lasted a week. Actually, four days after I enrolled I abandoned the gym; the vegetarian diet lasted only two days before I started stuffing myself with pork and junk food. The slimming teas tasted bitter and made me poop round the clock. I realized they were simply laxatives, so off they went to the trash.

My last resort was a frightfully expensive anti-obesity pill, which, taken once after every meal, prevented the fat in the diet to be absorbed. It was effective, no doubt, but it also caused a serious side effect: empty pockets.


“You are what you eat.”

Don’t waste the opportunity to lose weight by continuing to eat badly, said the flyer of the anti-obesity pill I tried. It made sense. All those days enduring flatulence and embarrassing loose stool situations- side effects of the weight loss pill- will be put to waste (excuse the pun) if one will continue to have high calorie surplus.

I started by not starving myself- a bad habit which usually urges me to binge later in the day. Eating small portions of satisfying, nutritious food keeps my energy up throughout the day. I also make it a point to get a little exercise by walking instead of riding a jeepney most of the time. I eat less meat now, and more vegetables, fruits, and grains.

The results may not be as dramatic as I’d hoped, but I’m likely to keep this new routine. During breakfast, I’d stare at the can of oatmeal and imagine Quaker’s face speaking and telling me: “Belly be gone!.”