Following is a crosspost from Underwear Model Or Bust, a personal project I’ve kicked off with Webchutney CEO Sidharth Rao.
So here we are. After days, nay weeks, of fretting and fuming there’s finally something up on the blog other than the token first entry.
First up, what is this business anyway?
Well, everybody and their great aunt usually has some cause for unhappiness with their body mass. Which leads to most of us harboring weight loss aspirations, which we keep to ourselves, oftentimes making private half-hearted attempts towards achieving said objective. What eventually holds us back is lack of enough motivation, when it finally comes down to brass tacks, to keep us from hogging that extra piece of cake . Or Chinese food, as is my weakness. What one needs at such times is a figurative kick in the nuts.
And this site is meant to be exactly that. A public gauntlet, if you will, thrown by two men more at their own selves than at each other. So here’s a pledge. By December 31, 2011, I, Vulturo, shall have the body of an underwear model (Which , if not much were to be read into it, essentially means a body that’s good to look at). And given that this is public, if I fail, I’ll probably have no place to hide my shame. Hope that serves as the proverbial kick in the nuts in times of weakness.
Well, I’m no stranger to obesity or weight loss. The thing with elephants in the room is that they eventually tend to get noticed. I noticed the elephant first in 2009, when a morbidly obese physique was one of the primary factors that brought me down with deep vein thrombosis. That proved to be an awakening of sorts, when I managed to carry the momentum while staging a recovery from the wretched disease and brought my weight down from roughly 120 kilograms to about 94 at the glorious peak, all in the space of 10 months or thereabouts.
From here (2009)
to here (2010)
And roughly six months later, I lost it again. It doesn’t matter two straws if I explain it as a result of depression, getting too comfortable, or just plain mysteriously dropping the ball. What I can’t run away from is that I’m back to 104 kilograms. And ugly to look at.
Guess what, I know, that supposedly smart picture of mine wearing glares makes me look like a perfect douche. But for the moment I’m stuck with it, because a better one cannot be taken for reasons grounded in the reality of physics. And I intend to change that.
This time round there shall be no excuses. I bloody well have to do what it takes. And keep doing it as much as necessary if I love myself. As the Jedi say, Do or do not. There is no try.
It’s underwear model or bust. Guess that just about sums it up.
PS: More entries on how I’m planning to do this coming up shortly.