Pleasantly Paunched

Pleasantly Paunched
14th May 2006

At this stage of life, I find myself in a situation I’ve never been before.

I find myself battling an unfamiliar enemy. A battle I struggle to sustain.

For the first time in my life, I can’t quite make out my...er...family jewels when I look down at them.

Because every time I do look down, I see a fat, hairy belly bulging out from under my ribcage.

While a paunch may seem like normal life for a lot of people, let me rewind.

I’ve always been the skinny type. The ectomorph. My weight in school and throughout Jai Hind hovered between 50 and 54 kg. By the time I hit Pune, it had touched 56-58 kg. Then, in Pune, I thinned down even more.

Back in Bombay, 8 months into a working life, I was pleasantly surprised to notice I’d gained 8 kilos. 64 kg seemed like a good weight. And when it rose up towards 68, I was fairly happy.

Now, however, having shopped for a new wardrobe (waist 34, up 2 inches), and weighing about 72 kg, life doesn’t seem like a bed of non-fat roses.

Truth be told, the belly had started developing last year itself. I used to laugh it off, calling it a sign of prosperity. Never knowing I’d end up too prosperous for my own good.

Now let me explain the battle.

I started gymming last year, at Radio Club. The results were encouraging. Not only did the jelly belly (as Slappy calls it) disappear, my shoulders and chest began to expand.

Then I suffered from low blood sugar, and had to stop working out.

And my opportunistic belly took the chance with both hands. And slowly began to obscure my view of said family jewels.

So I resumed in November with Doc, carefully this time. Slowly upping the weights. Once again, the results were encouraging.

Then came the regional project. And workouts became more and more erratic. Trying to win the hearts (and wallets) of newborn mothers took on greater importance than trying to win a battle against fat.

Somewhere around this point, people began noticing the paunch. And pointing and whispering.

It had almost reached the stage that my paunch preceded me into a room. That’s when we went to Australia.

There’s something about the meat over there. I ate tons of it, but I didn’t fatten up further. I swear. I was the only member of the team who really pigged out on the food. And I didn’t bloat up.

During my last week there, I got the chance to swim regularly. And, for two weeks after my return, I swam every day.

The results were showing. The chest and shoulders filled out, the body shaped itself. A late growth spurt neared completion. I was feeling good, and looking even better.

Then my boss returned, and brought the workload with her. And my swimming routine sank slowly beneath the waves.

Naturally, the paunch returned.

We finished the film, but started work on another. And my routine still hasn’t taken root firmly. Where I should be swimming at least 5 times a week, I average around 2-3 times.

The belly’s winning this battle, but now it’s time to unleash my secret weapon. My version of the bombs that destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

My iron will power.

No more chocolates during the week. Cut down on alcohol –no more than twice a week. Cut down on cheese – salami sandwiches, not salami and cheese. No more Maggi noodles at work. No more stuffing face 24 hours a day.

Walk as much as possible. No more cabs to work – take the bus, and walk that 150 metres to the building.

And swim whenever I get the chance. No more shirking. 16 laps minimum, with a view to increasing.

There is, however, one problem I face.

Like I said, everyone’s commented on the paunch. Minty, Slappy, my best friend.

The thing is, every time they talk about the paunch, they also end up caressing it.

Why would I want to throw away something that women love to hate – so much so, that it’s the only thing that gets them to feel me up!

I’m in a quandary. But the first step to fixing a problem is to admit you have one. Okay, I admit it.

So what’s that saying about losing a battle but winning a war?

The war’s begun in earnest.

But for the moment, I remain pleasantly paunched.