Six kilograms? Six kilograms. That’s the figure I had gained in the duration of one and a half months. Somewhere inside, my hybrid of an egotistical-contrite self is somewhat proud of this achievement. The other, more sensible part of me is screaming in terror to get back to the gym and lose the belly ASAP.
So that’s what I did. At least, getting back to the gym part.
I had struggled to continue the fitness routine during Ramadan, but my weak-willed self withdrew into the hermit-hole of fasting hibernation merely after the first week. At the same time, I was attempting to keep my hydration level at an all time high throughout the month. It worked for the most part, but my energy was zapped by the time the clock hit Maghrib.
Having formed the habit of keeping a Ramadan meal diary for 3 or so years, it was not reassuring to look back at this year’s food entries. I wasn’t too worried about my sahur intake, but the iftar meals were the key problem.
As I flipped through my iftar notes, 10 days of Ramadan were spent breaking my fast in fast food chains. 10 of the other days involved local food stalls, selling the tastiest kebabs, chicken wings and more burgers (as if I hadn’t had enough of fast food burgers). The rest of the 10 days were homemade food – and some of it were the most excellent, homemade burgers.
So I guess my Ramadan was all about burgers. Couple this with the start of Eid celebrations, where I was intent on dedicating two weeks of my waking life to visit as many relatives’ and friends’ houses as much as possible. To catch up, of course – with possibly an ulterior motive to eat.
Regrettably, the 6 kilograms does make more sense now.
As Shawwal is coming to an end, the harsh reality hit me as I tried putting on my gym attire. I screamed internally. They were tight. I looked at myself in the mirror and realized that my cheeks are puffier and my chin is slowly forming a second layer.
It was decided at that exact dreadful moment that it was time to return to the fitness center. Rallying up my friends, they voiced the exact sentiments, telling me that they felt horrendously unhealthy in the past month. As we met up at the lobby, my good friend was staring at her bloated tummy for a hard 5 minutes before shouting in anguish, cursing the good food of Eid.
As we started our workout regime, it dawned on me that my stamina had dwindled down at an alarming rate. 15 minutes into cardio and I was already heaving like a winded buffalo. A stark contrast to two months ago, where I was able to perform the same cardio routine without breaks with an average of 45 minutes.
Acknowledging that I was out of shape only fueled the need to go exercise more often. As of now, I’ve only completed the fourth day of resuming the workout.
The aching upper body and the burning thighs have proven that it was definitely an overdue reappearance and much too long of a hiatus.
Eid has been good to me, in more ways than I can imagine. However, it’s time to make the rest of the year even better, health-wise.