The Long Cut.

I was heavy for most of my life. Not dramatically, not in a way anyone said anything about, but in the way where you know every chair before you sit in it and you stop being in photos without thinking about it first.

Law school made it worse. Five years of sitting, stress eating, and convincing myself I would sort it out later. Later kept getting later. By the time I finished my degree I was somewhere around 120 kilograms and deeply unbothered about it in the way that is actually the most bothered you can be.

I started going to the gym because my back hurt. That is the whole origin story. No epiphany, no intervention, no moment of clarity at 2am. My back hurt and someone said the gym would help.

The first month I wanted to quit every single day. I did not understand anything, I was embarrassed constantly, and I was still eating like someone who had not decided to change yet. The weight did not move for six weeks.

Then it did. Slowly at first, then in a rhythm that became the most reliable thing in my life. I started to understand what food actually did, not in a diet way but in a mechanical way. I started sleeping better. I started enjoying the gym, which I would not have believed if someone had told me in month one.

The food thing was the hardest part for me specifically because I love food. I still do. I travel for it. I write about it. I was not willing to stop eating the things I love and I did not have to. I just had to stop eating everything all the time, which turns out to be the only thing that actually matters.

Three years later I am 75 kilograms. I have arms now, which is still strange to notice. My back does not hurt anymore. I still go to the gym most mornings. I still eat biryani when I want biryani. Both things are true and compatible, which is the main thing I learned.