The Weigh-In

Scales

It was judgement day today. Just after posting that other update about TRA, my cousin Beth texted to ask if I was in – if I was, they were coming to weigh me in NOW. Fantastic – nothing like a surprise weigh-in, right after breakfast no less.

Just as I’d gotten over that unpleasant early morning shock, it then turns out that Beth couldn’t come. She was sending along her boyfriend Bryan, which was even more frightening.

You see, Bryan looks like a Chinese Justin Bieber, with one of those faces that are so pretty and good looking that you have to consciously restrain yourself from slapping him across both cheeks. He’s also very thin and one of those sickeningly healthy people who only eats steamed fish and stays very far away from oily things. He deserves another two slaps for that too. I’m slightly scared (wary) of these healthy types. The good looking ones are even more intimidating. They freak me out.

Anyway, so here comes the dreaded moment. I step on the scales that measure everything, come off it and Bryan goes to take a look to write down the numbers in the little book that they give you to track your progress.

So, the verdict?

Turns out that I’m right back where I started 12 weeks ago, haha! My weight, fat and muscle percentages are back to what they were. It’s as if I never went on the programme.

Okay, so I admit to Justin Bieber that I’ve not been very good with following this thing. I’m kind of just eating whatever I want to eat lah.

Justin Bieber looks horrified. He kept exclaiming and scrunching his face up at me to ask, “What have you been eating!! Why have you been eating so much? Aiyo, what have you been eating!” I told him there’s no way I was going to tell him.

It was all quite amusing, really, just to see his reaction.

There are measurements to be taken too, with one of those old school measuring tapes. And hey, I didn’t do too badly. I had still lost cms which was good enough for me. I’ve been feeling really good about going to the gym a lot recently and looking good in my clothes. I didn’t think these results were too bad, after all, considering how many yummy (read: fattening) things I’d been scoffing in the last few weeks.

So the scales weren’t very polite, but the measuring tape gave enough good news to balance things out a bit. I gave Bieber a smug look and said, “See! It’s not so bad! Okay, wat! I’m happy!”

If there is a way to disappoint someone 12 years your junior, this was surely it. He looked puzzled and worried and exasperated and slightly sad all at the same time. He just didn’t know what to do with me. I don’t think he’d ever had a client like me before – someone who successfully managed to reverse her programme. I almost felt a bit bad for him.

Realising that this conversation was getting futile, he finally changed the subject to talk of his taking a gap year, his travels to Ipoh and plans for us to meet up with Beth for yum cha and a movie next week. It’s all good.

So, what now? I now have a new mission to try to prove TRA wrong. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a malicious, spiteful thing. I’m testing out that age-old theory that really, there is no miracle cure. Nothing works like proper diet and exercise. So once I’m off the programme (it ends some time next week), I’m going back to eating right and upping my workouts in a bid to still lose some weight, tone up and slim down.

If it works that way, then it just goes to show, as ever, the good / bad news (depending on how you look at it), that diet and exercise really is the only magic solution and that a fit body can be achieved all on its own, without fancy pills and packaging.

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