My Personal Journey

I have been in a fight with my body weight my entire life. When I was still in primary school, my mother, bless her, thought she was doing me a favour by signing me up for a weight loss program. I don't blame her for anything; her intentions were always virtuous and loving. She simply tried to do what she thought and believed was best for me.

Unfortunately, the weight loss program was something that I recall with anguish and torment now almost 50 years later. The weight loss program required the weighing of food portions for each meal, the prohibition of snacking and a strict limitation of what I was permitted to eat.

I can still remember with dismay, the Tupperware containers containing watery, wilted and unpalatable tuna salad with only lemon juice as a dressing which was the solitary contents of my school lunch box.

But that was not even close to the worst of it. Once a week, I was required to visit the program facility and step on to a scale in front of other miserable and dejected participants that consisted mostly of despondent middle aged woman also suffering from being a bit chubby. During the "weigh in", the facilitator, (a horrid and nasty somewhat plus-size lady), would first loudly publicise my weight from the previous week, I would then be ordered onto the scale and she would equally loudly pronounce my current weight. When she revealed the difference between the two weights, if I had dropped a few, she would distinctly add "well done" - but if the scales had tipped in the other direction, she would discernibly suffix the revelation with "shame".

A "well done" got me a cordial applause from my other woeful, rotund accomplices, whereas a "shame" ensued with a heart-breaking BOOing from the forlorn and melancholy bunch.

Since then, during my life, I have been on every diet known to man and even a few of my own making. I have cut out certain food groups, I have tried weighless, weight-watchers, herbalife, the grapefruit diet, south beach, banting, paleo, dukan, atkins, intermittent fasting, cabbage soup and slimfast to name but a few. I had varying amounts of success and managed to lose some substantial weight at times only to put it all back on again, (plus extra), sooner or later.

Today

Today, almost 5 decades later, I accept my body shape for what it is. I am 183cm tall, big boned and weigh, depending on the day, around 145kg. I wear a size 46-48 pants and a least a 5XL top. My girth which is the measurement all the way around the largest part of my body - my abdomen (over my belly-button) is 150cm - about the total length of a standard sewing tape measure.

Sure I would really like to lose some kilograms, mostly so for health reasons. I say mostly because there are some other factors about being a large chap that really do concern me:

Highest on the list is the health issue: I am pre-diabetic and have metabolic syndrome. My omentum, (Latin for "apron"), a medical term referring very basically to the curtain of fat that hangs down from my stomach to over my pelvic area, is according to my doctor liable for many of my health issues. Check out Dr. Google if you want to know more about this stuff. Apparently, the omentum is the largest organ in the body but is rather understudied. It seems to play a role in my immune system, metabolism, insulin sensitivity, endocrine system and hormones. I live in hope that more will be learned soon resulting in some magic bullet solution which will be developed to solve all of my problems, but I am not holding my breath.

Next on my issue list is sex: I like sex. I have a beautiful, sexy, loving and supportive partner and I would like to make love to her as frequently, spontaneously, adventurously and impulsively as I would have when I was in my more youthful years. Did I say frequently? Anyhow, at my age, size and health this is a tricky issue. It seems, my repugnant omentum has somehow depleted my own body's supply of testosterone and I need that shit for a variety of reasons, not only sex drive. Sexual positions are very limited and my fitness levels are not up to the energetic love making sessions of earlier years. I have found cialis to be useful, but that in and of itself brings its own set of dilemmas. This is rather personal, and I don't want to elaborate much more, suffice to say it is a high number two on my issue list.

My third distress on the list is clothing. I absolutely abhor going shopping for clothes. It's a total nightmare for me. Firstly, most of the typical "off-the-peg" retailers do not carry any formal shirts/sweaters/t shirts /casual shirts etc. in anything over a 3XL, and most of them actually stop their ranges at XXL. I get it, they are a business and need to carry stock that sells, and most men are smaller than I am. Occasionally, I see a 4XL on the rail and I optimistically hold it up in front of me with hopeful anticipation which rapidly transforms into despair when I realise that there is zero chance that the buttons on the front will close around my corpulent belly.

Once in a while, I will pick up a 4XL which may actually have a chance of looking passable. Because this happens so seldom, it results in a bit of a buying frenzy. I look for other colours and styles in the same size and take 4 or 5 items with me into the fitting room to try them on.

Fitting rooms are really unfriendly places for me. Firstly, they usually have quite a few mirrors. The lighting sucks and the angle of the mirrors, which I assume are supposed to make you look good, exaggerate my size.

Secondly, they typically do not have anywhere to sit. Why do I need to sit? Well it is incredibly difficult; if not impossible for me to bend down to untie/tie my shoe laces because my belly gets in the way. I need to do this sitting down, so I can cross my ankle over my knee and attack the laces side on. Of course, I have heard of slip‑ons, but because finding such items on the rack is such a rare occurrence, this usually happens when I am included in the shopping expedition by my family mainly because I carry the wallet. If I had pre‑planned to try on clothes, I would anticipate the shoe‑lace dilemma and plan accordingly.

When you are my size, there are many things that are annoyingly small To highlight a few, airline seats and seat belts; sports cars; the gap between the table bolted to the ground with a bench bolted to the ground in some eateries; single car garages and parking spaces which prevent me from opening the car door "all‑the‑way"; flimsy outdoor furniture and of course, the standard sized fitting room. To dress and undress in such a confined space is heart‑breaking, demeaning and rather exhausting. Did I mention I am unfit? Trying on clothes in a "no‑room‑to‑swing‑a‑cat" cubicle results in quite profuse sweating, as somehow the store air conditioners just don't reach the fitting rooms.

Invariably, from my selection of tops, albeit that they are the same brand and labelled with the same size, seem to be cut differently. It's almost like the manufacturer or brand is taking the piss and having a laugh at my expense. Most often, I am lucky if 1 out of the 5 tops is adequate. I have tried the online shopping thing to find again that the sizes typically stop at 5XL. I must add that the three x 5XL tops I bought from some store on Ali‑Express, I donated to my 25 year old slim, (she weighs around 50kg) and gorgeous, (she has a cat‑walk model's shape), daughter who wears them as pyjamas.