When you get into your mid-30s or early 40s, your metabolism mysteriously throws an anchor overboard and says no way, José....CONTINUE READING
It’s as if every greasy cheeseburger, beer, and Galaxy dairy milk chocolate you devour is more challenging to shift than a tenant who stopped paying the rent.
What’s even worse, and a double whammy to your self-esteem, is the guilt tax from eating food you enjoy. It feels f**king awful. It’s a cycle I thought I’d never be able to get out of.
Growing up in South Africa and spending every other weekend on my dad’s Ostrich farm meant life was outdoors.
Staying inside to play video games was only appropriate if you wanted the other kid’s parents to think you were a loser “frying your brain”.
As a family, when I was 12, we immigrated to England, where you were stuck indoors for long periods because of the unreliable weather. It slowly shaped your daily routine.
Instead of heading outside to play, my friends would all agree to meet at a house and have the four of us huddled around the T.V. for a stint on Goldeneye on the N64.
I’m amazed at how those same habits trickle into your adult life. You lose that sporty side of yourself because life responsibilities take over, like earning money to pay bills.
For me, I was constantly behind the eight ball.
I’d get up at the very last minute so I’d have just enough time to get to work, which meant I hadn’t organised a packed lunch. It usually resulted in a day of snacking out of the vending machine.
And because I went out the evening before for some beers to break up the week, I hadn’t bought any groceries, so I went for the easy takeaway option.
