Week 3. Day 18.

Today was a tough day from the start. It started with the knock at my door, which was meant to wake up my sister– a noise that she conveniently ignored (as always), but managed to wake me up from my disturbed sleep. I shook her legs and pleaded that she wake up first. She ignored me. I woke up, begrudgingly, and started my day.

Fridays are leg days. I love leg days. Today is going to be great, I told myself as I stepped on the treadmill for my warm up. By the time I got on the cross trainer, I felt my knees buckle, but I wasn’t about to quit. I pushed myself to complete my 35 minute cardio session so I could move on to my favourite part. Weights! A few floor exercises later, when I got on to the (I-have-no-idea-what-its-name-is-leg-thingy) equipment, I was excited. 10kgs. 20kgs. 3-FUCK-MY. LIFE-30kg. Unlike the previous week, all the exercises seemed a 100 times more tougher. The third set for every single exercise made me feel like my body was going to fall apart. By the time I left the gym, I felt like a loser. I couldn’t do what I had done last week. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel so pathetic.

Back home, things were same as always. Shower. Lunch. Screen time. The annoyance never left me. I managed to get some shut eye, only to be woken up by a yelling mother. Of course, taking an hour long nap, after a whole week of not being able to, has to be the world’s biggest sin. After lazing around for a while, I decided to go shop for some gym wear. I was getting tired of alternating between just two black tees through the week.

It has been a while since I have shopped, which is probably why I had forgotten how disheartening the whole experience used to be. I tried on a couple of kurtis only to see how even an XL (the largest size the store carries) flattened my boobs and accentuated my tummy. Angered, I moved on to the sportswear section. I had to pick up a tee from the men’s section, when I realised the XXL of Women’s Perfomax tees were too tight for me. Pants were too tight, or didn’t allow for breathing room. Finally I found a pair, that I didn’t really care for, but fitted me.

I was practically in tears when I got home. I know if I wasn’t home, I would have ordered some desert or indulged in some sort of junk food. Yes, emotional binge eating really is the enemy. But, thankfully I am home, so I am just eating whatever is made at home. But the realisation scares me. What happens when I go back. Who will keep a check on me? But, I guess that’s the tough part.

Everyone shares transformation photos and then tells you how difficult the journey was and how unlike before shopping has now become pleasurable. The thing is, you can read all about it and relate to it but that moment of feeling like a complete failure under the bright light of the trial room after stuffing yourself into a t-shirt you thought could fit you, well no amount of relating to another person’s struggle can prepare you for it.

I have had numerous attempts at weight loss, and all for different reasons. For a boy, for an occasion, to shut my family up, for a dress I badly wanted…the list could go on forever. But, I realise that the only I way I would not quit is if I just did it for myself. Not for a moment or glory, or for the transformation photos, but so I could give my body the love and care it deserves. So, I am trying. It’s not going to be an easy journey, for sure. I know I will have numerous weak moments. I will want to give up because I won’t see the results and major transformation that I hoped for, as quickly as I want it. I know that the minute someone says that I look like I lost weight, I will read it as a sign to relax. I will be tempted to eat out and drink more than I should. I will want to take an off because I am lazy and I want to sleep in. I will want to use the excuse of a bad day to bunk. But, I am going to try hard as hell to not let myself stand in the way of my betterment. I will come out of this stronger, fitter and happier. I will.

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