In this week’s instalment of #SliceofGasant, Gasant Abarder reflects on his journey of finding the balance in the bathroom and on the scale in his efforts to just be a regular guy. But a ripped regular guy. And why BMI is a lie.
Abarder, who recently launched his book, Hack with a Grenade, is among the country’s most influential media voices. Catch his weekly column here, exclusive to Cape {town} Etc.
I used to think I was a fairly regular guy. Not in the sense of being dull or unexciting but in the context of having a healthy gut. But bad choices in my late 20s and 30s (too many gatsbys, salomies and samoosas, etc) made me as irregular as a dodgy municipal tender.
At the start of hard lockdown last March, I decided my 40s were make or break.
I borrowed liberally from an eating plan and virtual cardio exercises, designed for women, and lost 10kg in just a few weeks. I was drinking plenty of water, eating five colours of veg and fruit and measuring food portions.
I was weighing 73kg and feeling great. It was a strict eating and exercise plan that required weighing in every morning and logging centimetres lost or gained around various parts of the body.
Then I hit a wall and just couldn’t reach the 69kg that my body mass index, or BMI, demanded. I was – according to this damn BMI – overweight.
I was now more regular though and a double-sided scope (I’ll leave that to your imagination) confirmed all was good. Later, the pressures of working from home made me comfort eat again and soon regained my 10kg. Throughout, the damn BMI screamed: “Overweight!”
Acid reflux, the irregular municipality gut and bloating was back.
So, about two months ago, I started training like a boxer – something I always wanted to do thanks to hours of watching Rocky movies. I trained at my friend Mogamat Harris’ gym in the back room of his home in my old ‘hood Woodstock.
It was awesome with ancient weights, a boxing bag that had taken years of beatings and vintage spinning bikes. Gamat had acquired these over about two decades. A gritty session once or twice a week made muscles I never knew I had ache. Gamat scolded just like Rocky’s trainer Mickey when I trained “like a bum!”
Then, just as I was about to begin sparring, the president announced the 3rd wave of COVID and the move up to lockdown level 4. I was gutted but determined to keep in shape at home. But this time I would do things differently.
Screw the scale and the tape measure.
I was chasing the feel-good endorphins this time with healthy eating and plenty of water but not go all monk-like with measuring portions. I also found a 100% plant-based, vegan-friendly supplement range produced by a local entrepreneur. The training and good eating have made me a regular guy. Two times a day and thrice on Sundays!
I acquired a second-hand home gym, so the 5-days-a-week routine, with two rest days, involves 100 to 200 skips, a 25-minute cardio session and then weight training or shadow boxing. I’m addicted but my life coach says it’s a great addiction.
Today is Week 6, Day 2 of the programme and I feel awesome.
When I do the odd weigh-in there is gradual but realistic weight loss and definitely a decrease in centimetres around the boep. Flabby arms and spindly legs are slowly giving way to toned limbs.
It got me thinking about my loadshedding (not dumping on Eskom for a change). When I was younger I used to dread being on a date and having to go in public or the date’s home. What about the smell and the noise?
Reading many lad magazines armed me with a few tips. Light a match in the loo before you go as it eats up odours. To reduce the impact of the “the drop”, flush ahead to disguise the sound. Shove a towel in the gap between the floor and the door so horrid smells don’t escape.
Also, don’t be a rookie. Make sure when you have to play away there is air freshener. And loo paper (two-ply or nothing!). If there is a window, open it.
Being a regular guy comes with problems. It can happen anywhere. Mostly in the car on the way home, I find the call to nature is strong. It’s like your gut has a mind of its own and knows the landmarks on the route. When you see the corner of your street, the gentle rumblings turn into labour contractions that see you doing various seated yoga poses and Lamaze breathing.
And, of course, when you arrive, sweating like you’re about to play the All Blacks in a Test match, someone is hogging the loo!
But enough of this toilet humour.
Point is, your mom is right about eating your fruit and veg, drinking water and exercise. Cut down on the meat and help save the planet. Remember, to just be lekker… and regular.
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Picture: Unsplash