A prologue to motivation

Continued from I'm a loser

Growing up, I was a very skinny little boy. Relatives would call me ‘anak batu’(meaning ‘son of a stone’) during family reunions since I didn’t seem to have grown last they checked. That made me shy. I usually wore a shirt because I didn’t want people to see my protruding bones, especially my scapula every time I scratched my back, and my ribs lest someone plays them like a solo guitar. I wished I could grow up faster and wondered if I would stay that way till I reach old age; then I looked at grandpa’s figure, the resemblance made me wonder no more.

My parents were baffled as well and sometimes during family dinners one would say ‘I don’t know where all that food goes to’ and the other one would acknowledge with a smile or a giggle.

I began to grow normally only half way through high school. The extra curricular activities kept me lean. I liked sports but could not excel since I lack the stamina to build the necessary skills. I’m just not a natural sportsman. Soccer was enjoyable but I couldn’t even last till half time. I picked up hockey and played for the school but never endured a full game. It was frustrating to learn that I was not born with stamina above the average. I mean, some friends were built like bulls! Even in elementary school.

When I entered university, sports was not part of the graduating criteria so naturally I was more than happy to drop the idea altogether. I did visit the campus gym occasionally.

I grew heavier than the average sportsperson but the hardships of living a poor student’s life kept my weight down, unnecessarily low at times, when it got really tough. My study loan approval took much longer than I had anticipated. Things turned out better toward the end fortunately, but I wouldn’t want to go back studying anytime soon. Even then I was always heavier than my best friend especially after a long break at home.

I started working as an engineer (70kg approx.) more than three years ago, and that was when I started to take shape, or rather, no shape. I slowly accumulated 10 kilos and remembered that being at a constant 80 wasn’t that bad. Each time I get off a scale I would say “well, what do you know, eighty last three months, still eighty now. Better constant than increasing! I rest my case”

And every time I got a kilo heavier I’d say “ah, what does a kilo really mean anyway”.

Besides, almost everyone who haven’t seen me for a while exclaimed “Whoa! Your growth is impressive! Do you work out?” or something equivalent. The sight of me caused a visual scan which sometimes leads to a physical scan of my shoulder and biceps; you know how guys size their comrades. I was huge but there was no reason for me to worry about my weight and I didn’t think BMI meant anything. The broad chest that I had usually passed as mostly muscle, muscles I knew were lined heavily (and cleverly deceiving) with fat cells.

But make no mistake, I kept the dream of being back to my prime state during high school years. Whenever I bought a slightly tight pair of pants out of error, I would say “oh well, I’ll just keep it and wear it when I lose weight”.
And a friend would giggle and say “Haha! Stop dreaming dude”

But I always had this to say, “Ah, you’ll never know my friend. You’ll never know”, and it seemed to echo forever.