http://straitstimes.asia1.com.sg/co...,236379,00.html

I want to be a big loser
The thing about middle age is how it's so easy to pile on the kilos but a killer to take them off

By Alan John

IT'S 2.30am and I step out of News Centre to go home and a friendly cabby recognises me and calls out a greeting with the widest grin on his face.

'Wah, Mr Alan, you are so fat! Very fat lah nowadays!'

It was too late to suck it in. Besides, I'd been hearing much of the same recently.

Weightwatchers Inc should move its headquarters to Singapore, because it comes so naturally to us. We're always watching each other's weight.

People who haven't seen you for months or years think it's the perfectly normal thing to say when finally meeting you: 'Long time no see, you've put on weight!'

Now, one of the nastiest things about middle age is that you can suddenly pile on kilos so effortlessly but it's hell taking them off.

I've been blaming everything: My weird working hours that prevent me from fixing and sticking to an exercise routine.

Everyone: Why is eating such a central part of everything we do?

The dog: Why does he make walking such a chore because unlike other mutts that stop once to poop, he stops five times and it drives me nuts.

But I am an eternal seeker of help, inspiration and encouragement.

I pick up every magazine that has on its cover Before and After pictures of now-skinny people and their enormous former selves. I read how they did it and admire them all.

Although most of the slimming ads target women, it's plain to see that there are plenty of men struggling with fatness too.

I can't resist the Diets section of the bookshop, and count the books I've read and the things I've tried for the longest time.

Fit For Life and its weird recipes and fruit-before-meals regime.

The Atkins diet, years ago and ever so briefly. I stopped because I couldn't stand the servings of meat and that no-carbohydrate thing. And now there are these stories that Dr Atkins was obese when he died.

A friend told me she lost 10kg in a month on the South Beach Diet and the very next day I was in the shop, searching for the book, flipping the pages, checking its do-ability.

I once ate nothing but grilled salmon and steamed cauliflower for three weeks and dropped 3kg. I was finally onto a good thing and everyone marvelled at how I never tired of eating the same thing all the time.

Then came those stories about farmed salmon being carcinogenic and I chose staying fat over getting cancer.

I stocked up instead on chocolate-flavoured canned drinks when Whoopie Goldberg, who always makes me laugh, became the spokesman for Slim Fast and started going around saying: 'I'm a big loser.'

I do draw the line at gastric surgery, though. Never mind the success story of that massive Today show weatherman Al Roker, who lost over 50kg by getting his stomach stapled and his gut rerouted to make it impossible to eat more than tiny portions at a time.

No way to that, or colonic irrigation either, which some friends had on a recent Hong Kong holiday and returned swearing they lost weight instantly.

Someone suggested kindly that it's easier to lose weight in your later years by taking up a fun activity like ballroom dancing or line-dancing.

The latter had some appeal as I am one of very few people I know who listen to country music, but then I watched a near-geriatric troupe in action and abandoned that idea forever.

Several times I've reached the verge of turning vegetarian but those animal rights people irritate me too much for me to let them think they've scored a minor victory.

But alas, the scales don't lie. That cabby was right.

I'm heavier than I've been in 10 years and I know where it all came from.

Last Christmas added the first kilos. Scoffing 100 pineapple jam tarts over a week of the Chinese New Year did major damage (what can I say, it's the truest comfort food of my childhood).

In the midst of it all I needed to take some medication which made me ravenous all the time. The nice doctor warned it might happen and said: 'You should consider having low-calorie snacks and meals.'

Yeah, right.

And when I complained after two weeks that the rotten medicines made me pile on even more kilos, he just smiled and said: 'Okay, blame me.'

That was when I knew I needed the makan version of Alcoholics Anonymous. I was ready to admit that I once was good, but now was fat.

Why, it wasn't so long ago that I even served on the committee that promoted a healthy lifestyle, although I always attended meetings fearful that some day I would be found out.

So of course I knew what I had to do. I've recited the failproof mantra countless times: Eat Less. Exercise More.

And that other one: Moderation. Moderation. Moderation.

Ugh. Ignoring it all is so much easier and tastes better too.

I wish I could end this Sunday confession with news of how I finally found the way to win the battle of the bulge.

Or say how I too can finally pose for a picture holding out my too-huge trousers at the waist so you might be inspired yourself.

Nope. It hasn't happened.

But last Monday I started eating less and began keeping my 176th food diary.

On Tuesday I started walking again and at least the dog is happier.

And on Wednesday, when a friend thrust a box of Godiva chocolates in my face and waved her hand over them to let their aroma assault and weaken my resolve, I was able to resist, saying: 'Evil, be gone!'

That was a major victory, the sign that I had turned an important corner.

Now all I have to watch out for are my extremist tendencies.

As soon as the first 500g come off, I know what will happen - I'll start thinking that maybe I should have a crack at the marathon.

I love reading about middle-aged people who do the most unlikely things, who suddenly change their lives, become superfit and race up mountains or swim across oceans.

But hey, that's another story.

The writer can be reached at alan~sph.com.sg