Diaries/Journals

[East]

It is a weird thing to look back and see what you wrote...

I was looking at some of my college papers I wrote a while back....I didn't even know I had them...and I was shocked at how grammatically correct I used to be LOL...and no use of slang...

..and the part that made me smile...I was happy to see I was thinking outside of the box back then...and that I was ALWAYS in left field. For some reason..I thought I arrived in left field much later...

I did do alot of acid so that might explain a few things :biggrin:

I also came upon a political site that I had been on in the 90s and though it seems to be a ghost town now..I found some of my posts where I was still under the impression that we were actually having a conversation/debate...before I realized that there was shills and trolls. It was a time when it never even occurred to me that anyone would do such a thing. They hadn't worn me down yet either...I was on my game...

The only journal I kept was ...um...well...er....I used to keep a journal of the guys I had sex with. That is how I can accurately guestimate the number of sexual partners I had. The reason I did it was kinda funny though. The thing is...I only masturbated to things I had actually done..and people I had actually been with...and I didn't want to forget anyone. Seriously...

Even today....the little I masturbate...it is about my boyfriend or other guys I have been with.

I had a ratings system..from 1-5. I had quite a few fives (the best)..not too many ones...

I don't know if I still have it...I haven't seen it for over 20 years...

[Lexington]

I remember looking back at my college notebooks, and thinking how little I've changed. Although I took decent notes, the left margin was my "free zone" where I'd doodle and write other stuff. I had recently learned to draw a certain cartoon character, so I used to draw him over and over again in various ways. One was him in a three piece suit that was torn to hell, sort of a post-apocalyptic picture. Another had just his head coming out of large bottle, with a "CONTENTS: ONE CARTOON CHARACTER" label on it. I also wrote a LOT of song titles in the margins - I was forever planning mixtapes.

The only actual "diary" I kept was during my first depression. It's actually pretty readable. I think three separate entries start with "I'm at (different restaurant) for lunch, and I got the wobbly table." Only one of the entries smacks of overly-dramatic "life is worthless" bullshit, but then again, that's how I felt at the time.

Lex

[Pyromancer]

I've always journaled...I have them dating back to when I was 15...

I belong to a writing group IRL that meets weekly and we just started an incredible new project...keeping journals in our chosen discipline, which is structured, classical poetry forms...I'm really excited about it...

[matty7]

ive never kept a diary and im actually happy about that , at a young age you have dreams that you are going to achieve what you want and very very few people actually get that dream - so to look back and read about the bands I have been in thinking this is the one would be a disappointment ....I like the past where it is

[ShiftyNJ]

The only journal I kept was ...um...well...er....I used to keep a journal of the guys I had sex with. That is how I can accurately guestimate the number of sexual partners I had. The reason I did it was kinda funny though. The thing is...I only masturbated to things I had actually done..and people I had actually been with...and I didn't want to forget anyone. Seriously...

Even today....the little I masturbate...it is about my boyfriend or other guys I have been with.

I had a ratings system..from 1-5. I had quite a few fives (the best)..not too many ones...

I don't know if I still have it...I haven't seen it for over 20 years...

I can't confirm but I HEARD it's next to Archie's chair at the Smithsonian (runs)

[Bookworm]

Thanks guys! Looks like there's a fair few scribblers around! I don't actually keep a diary these days but I do try and write when the mood takes me; usually abstract poetry but I have tried my hand at short stories (most I never finish sadly but they all still exist so I could potentially revisit them at some point.)

East, you are shameless :biggrin: but we love you for it

Twist, I have folders full of old role playing histories, maps and stories too! My nefarious plan to emulate Tolkien buried me! I keep digging it out occasionally and changing parts; it's a convoluted mess now :redface:

I've often thought of joining a writing group, it's certainly something I'll consider. I never seem to have the mental stamina to complete an entire story of some length, but if I was more prepped on structure and stuff it might get easier, who knows...

[Jay]

I write a lot but unfortunately I don't keep my old diaries.

I do have a blog where I jot down my thoughts on my weight loss journey (Long essays; separated into chapters). I thought it would be interesting to publish my stuff as a book (One person can dream...).

[Jay]

Bookworm, if I may share parts of my journal.

Chapter 1 - My Red Gym Bag and I

“60 seconds rest, Jay. Then one more set to go.” I noted myself whilst jotting down the number of reps that I was able to do in my last set. I was in the middle of completing my last workout for today, which was Hyperextension (Back extension) with 50-lbs plate.

Unlike yesterday, the gym was deserted today. There were only two other people in the gym when I did my workout.

I took a sip of water and rested myself on a bench opposite of the Hyperextension bench. Whilst taking my 60-sec rest, I couldn’t help to gaze at myself in a mirror. The gym’s entire wall is attached with mirrors.

“You’ve come a long way, Jay …” I thought to myself.

Introduction

Around 9 years ago, I was an extremely overweight young man weighing 165 kg (363 lbs) with 64 inches of waist.

I could barely walk for more than a minute at a time. My skin was rough with rashes all around. I was seen as a very unattractive man with double chin and all. I had a huge temper and was often under depression due to the environment that I was living in. Being bullied in school and outside the school yard was painfully common. I played truant a lot on my last few years in high school to avoid bullies. My outstanding curriculum went downhill due to that. Basically, my life was all round doom and gloom.

To be frank, I thought I wouldn’t live past my 20th birthday. But somehow, I did.

Something inside me woke me up and asked me to make a change.

2005 was the year I made my first move. I was 22 years old at the time.

After long years of hard work, tears, sweat and sacrifice, I emerged as a new person. I have become a very fit person who lives in a healthy, positive and active lifestyle. I haven’t touched sodas, junk and fast food since year 2005. I completely lost my appetite towards junk food.

My skin glows and looks smooth, albeit stretch marks here and there. I just turned 30 on last April 16th but majority of people tend to mistake me for an early 20-year young lad. I’m not complaining though.

My face structure has entirely changed. I no longer look like the person that I was and I personally think that is a good thing. Why? I’ll keep the reasons to myself. But to let you know, I had a ‘culture shock’ for several years due to my new look.

As I lost my weight, so did my temper. Tons of bricks that I had to carry on my shoulders have been removed. No more stress, no more crying and no more sadness. I become a very calm and happy person.

I managed to bounce back in curriculum on my last years in college. I was an A+ student in my final year. I’m currently working as a designer for an international real estate company.

My weight dropped to 65 kg (143 lbs), which means I have lost 100 kg (220 lbs) in total. But I’m in the process of regaining few pounds as I’m trying to build muscle mass. I’m aiming to mimic a male gymnast body.

Present & Future

After I finished my workout, I quickly drank my protein shake and packed my gym stuff into my gym bag.

“Done?” Terry, the gym owner who was also my former personal trainer asked me before I was about to leave.

I hired Terry for four months after I have lost my weight. I didn’t have problem to lose weight by myself as I know what I was doing. I was a cardio freak. Weight training; however, was a new territory for me hence why I sought for his assistant to guide me in weight lifting. I learned a lot from him as well as from his fiancee, who also happens to be a professional bodybuilder.

I gave him a thumbs up and nodded my head. He replied my gesture with a smile.

With that, I walked out from the gym with my huge red gym bag.

The journey is yet coming to its end. Sure, few chapters have ended but a new chapter is just about to begin. This blog will act as my journal to share my thoughts, experiences and also to record my workout.

[Jay]

Chapter 2 - Walk Like a Man

“Hey, Jay. What workout are you going to do today?” A gym member asked.

“Legs workout. My torture day …” I groaned.

He laughed and gently slapped my back. “Have fun.”

Walk Like a Man

I have a love and hate relationship with legs workout. I hate it not because of what you think though.

I’m not very keen with it because of my ability to perform legs workout is somewhat limited due to my injured left leg. My limitation makes me feel kind of helpless in a way. I want to push myself harder but I can’t.

When I was around 11 years old, I fell downstairs and it left me with a bleeding shin. I didn’t tell my parents that I fell. I didn’t seek for a proper medical treatment. I just slapped few adhesive bandages onto my sheen. To make the injury much worse, my newly injured leg wasn’t able to support my ever-growing overweight body. As a result, my left tibia and fibula become bent and curvy.

Whilst other gym members do their legs workout with two legs altogether, I have to train each leg separately. My former personal trainer asked me to do so due to unbalance strength between my left leg with my right leg. My right leg can handle heavy weight with ease but the same thing can’t be said with my left leg. I can’t push my left leg too hard as I don’t want to snap it into two.

I have to wear a knee brace and additionally use my left hand to support my left leg whilst doing legs workout particularly leg press. It’s annoying but I also have to admit it does make me look badass.

I would not lie that I used to consider my left leg to be a burden. I was embarrassed to walk in the public for years because people tend to stare at it. My leg injury also made me frustrated. Seeing normal people walking in a street with ease left me discomfort with a twinge of envy. Seeing people running made me feel even worse. Yes, I can run but how I wish I can run like normal runners. Without looking odd and limping.

I remember what my aunt once said to my mom when they had a conversation in our living room. Really, I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was heading to the kitchen from my bedroom when I accidentally heard their conversation.

“Jay has lost so much weight now, hasn’t he?” My aunt gushed.

Then she continued. “Is there a way to treat his left leg? It such a pity. He has pretty face …”

I felt like being slapped by my aunt indirectly.

Go figure why I used to dislike mirrors and my own reflection.

Blessing in Disguise

On last 9th May 2013, I had an opportunity to speak to a security guard who works for a shopping center that is located right across of my office. He’s in his late 30. I think.

“Are you an athlete?” He asked. ‘I always see you run in the morning.”

“Pardon, an athlete?” I didn’t expect that.

“Yes, a Paralympic athlete.”

“Paralympic athlete …”I sighed. I understood why he thought I was a Paralympic athlete.

“Yes, have you ever heard of Paralympics? It’s a sport tournament for disabled people like you.”

I didn’t utter a word. I just nodded my head.

I was trying to figure out whether to take this whole thing as a compliment or a mockery.

“I’ve been working as a security guard for a year now.” He then said. “I did a lot of bad things in the past. I was a drug addict too.”

Hmm. I was puzzled. Why is he suddenly sharing his personal life with me? But I didn’t say a thing. I continued to listen to his story.

He told me that people who know his past look down upon him.

“What has happened has already happened.” I smiled at him. “You’ve realized that you have made mistakes and now you’re trying to make things right for you.”

He nodded his head. He avoided eye contact with me as much as possible.

“Most people can never be happy for other people. So don’t think about them. Think about your future and you. Just keep on moving and improving.” I added. Hopefully my words are able to boost his spirit.

“I see you do morning run every single day. Even though you are disabled, you still outdo the able-bodied. You have determination and strength. Never in my life had I found someone who truly inspires me as much as you do …” He smiled sheepishly.

I was honestly startled that I wasn’t able to say a word to him afterward. Thankfully I still managed to give him a smile and a pat on his right shoulder.

I didn’t speak much in the office on that day. The security guard’s voice echoed in my mind repeatedly. My heart was sobbing quietly. I wiped my teary eyes from time to time.

The security guard reminds me of two young patients that I met in a hospital on last year. Last December 2012, I was admitted into a hospital for a surgery. The surgery was supposed to be my fourth surgery but it was eventually cancelled by my surgeon. Nevertheless I did spend one night in the hospital and had the chance to get to know these two courageous ‘special’ teenagers and one of their mothers. They don’t like to be called disabled.

Anyway the teenagers, the mother and I spent the whole night talking with each other. They wanted to know about everything – my weight loss story, my leg injury and more. These teenagers consider me as their big brother, a role model and a hero. A hero. Heh …

I meant so much to both of them that one of them gave his burger that he was planning to eat to me. I gently declined as I don’t eat junk food but he insisted. “Please, Jay. Just this once. Please. You can get back in shape after you leave the hospital.”

So I took a bite with a heavy heart.

“How does it taste? Since you haven’t eaten junk food for years.” He asked.

“It tastes … weird.” I chuckled.

They all laughed.

There was another touching moment that I can’t forget. The same kid asked for my permission to hold my arm for a few seconds. I asked him why. He said he wants a bit of my positive spirit.

I still keep in touch with both of them till this very day.

Imperfection is Beautiful

I often used to ask myself, “What do people see in me that I don’t?”

Why wasn’t I able to appreciate my own imperfection? Was my mind cowardly trapped in the ‘Beauty is Perfection’ mentality? I hate to admit it but I probably did.

People say you become wiser as time goes by. I’m in my 30 now. I’ve seen things and I’ve learned things. I’m finally able to grasp and accept my imperfection. Yes, my imperfection still does make me sigh from time to time but at least I’m now able to see a light beyond it.

Everything happened for a reason and every imperfection that I have is a blessing in disguise. My weight loss journey was a huge blessing as it helps me to become a better person. So does my injured leg. I’ve now fully realized that my imperfection shouldn’t be seen as a brick wall but a medium to inspire myself and hopefully to other people too.

I may limp but I walk with pride.

[Jay]

Chapter 3 - The Sunken Face

“Ciao Bello.” A British expatriate once whispered to me. He was a friend to a friend of mine.

He smiled and winked.

I froze in my tracks as the six-feet tall gentleman continues to walk away in a crowded lobby of our office building.

Handsome.

It’s awkward to hear people utter that word to me; ever since I returned to the public after many years of ‘hiding out’ to lose weight.

No, I don’t think I am handsome to the level of Ryan Reynolds or Calvin Klein models but I think I look good enough to make myself happy. I deserve to be happy with who I am, don’t I? We all deserve to be happy with who we are.

Well I had a different name prior to my rebirth as a new man that I am today.

I was first known for years as The Sunken Face.

The Sunken Face

The sunken face wasn’t just a dramatic blurt. It has been said so many times by a lot of people that it fluctuates my self esteem. It took me years to overcome the worst part of it.

As I’ve previously mentioned in this blog, I was a 363lbs-man who successfully went down to 143lbs. In total, I lost 220 lbs within 7 years. I’m currently holding myself at 158lbs due to ‘muscle development’. I’m in the work to become lean and muscular with six packs abs.

Massive weight loss has completely changed my entire physical particularly my face. I do not resemble to the old me in any kind of way. My relatives and grandma weren’t able to recognize me until my parents re-introduced me to them. They were truly shocked.

The Sunken Face arose on the third or fourth year of my weight loss’ timeline. I was getting thinner. My face structure was slowly changing.

That was when my mom pointed out to me, “Jay, your face has sunken.”

She didn’t just say it once. But many times throughout the years.

I don’t think my mom had any intention to hurt my feeling by saying such thing. Maybe that’s what she really saw from her own angle. I don’t know. Love you, mom.

I struggled to convince myself that I look good ever since. Deep down I know that I have a nice look but my mom at the time, insisted something else. As a result, I hated mirrors. I avoided taking pictures. I refused to look at my own reflection.

One day I stumbled into an old friend from high school. I used to consider him as one of my best friends even though he likes to make fun of me from time to time. He and another friend used to laugh whilst imitating the way I walk. I limp due to leg injury.

“Jay, you have lost a lot of weight. Are you ill? You look like a sick person!” He snickered.

I sighed.

The Sunken Face has also been said and agreed by few of my relatives. “Your face, it looks hollow.”

I sighed again.

With a lot of people talking as such, I began to question myself. “Are they telling the truth? Have my face sunken? Am I that ugly?”

Their discouraging words really messed up my mind since I personally thought I look good. Few of my neighbors even agreed with me. My neighbors constantly reminded my parents that I have turned into a good looking man.

In the end, I had no idea who was telling the truth and which side to believe. It didn’t take a long time for me to admit defeat and to convince myself that I’m hmm, not an attractive person.

2008

Middle of 2008 was the year I applied for my first job. I worked as a video editor in a small video production. That was the first year I exposed myself to the public again. From 2005 to 2008, I did my best to hide myself from the public by staying in my neighborhood to focus 500% on weight loss. I cut off my contact with my old friends. Three years living in ‘seclusion’ decreased my skills to socialize.

I spent most of my working hours in the studio so I didn’t make a lot of contact with outsiders. Nevertheless I still had to re-learn to communicate and socialize properly again as I needed to interact with my clients.

I didn’t have problem finding a job because I was trained for public speaking since I was in a primary school. I’m always confident in public speaking. But to socialize is a different story. Socializing requires intimacy, undrafted dialogue with a pinch of trust and courage. I wasn’t able to grasp any of these at the time. I was afraid to approach people due to the way I was mistreated in the past. Children included. I was scared of kindergarten kids. I kid you not. They called me names too.

On early 2009, I received a call from an international recruitment firm. The lady introduced herself and informed me that an international real estate company was looking for a designer. She wanted to know if I was interested. I was.

I had to go through 6 phases of interviews to get the job. The first interview was an oral interview with the recruitment firm. The second interview requires me to demonstrate my skills in design as well as creative thinking on spot. The third interview involves several tests where I had to produce mock ups of posters and brochures for the said company. The fourth was an interview with the real estate company’s marketing manager and the final interview was with the general manager.

Patience is virtue.

I got the job.

Unlike my first job, my new job requires me to expose myself to the public. My new company is located in the most prestigious district of the capital city. High end boutiques such as Prada, Gucci, Hermes and Louis Vuitton are the glittering ornaments that decorate the district.

At the beginning, walking down a street in this district was a miserable experience. Whilst I was proud and confident, I was also insecure from head to toe.

I had my broken thoughts; I was physically accessorized with a sunken face and an injured leg. I saw myself as an ugly duckling amongst beautiful men with slick hairs and perfect bodies that are meant for fashion magazine spreads.

But little by little, I found out that I was born to be a fighter. A bit of rebel. I pushed myself to have faith and gave my all to defeat my doubts. By 2009 onward, I gradually become a much stronger and confident person than I was before. My daily mantra at the time was ‘Perfection is Not Perfect‘.

Yes, I still had flaws and insecurities but I was more optimistic with myself. I was finally able to accept the condition of my injured leg. I never stopped running ever since. I run in public places and was seen by many. A lot of people who work in my office building know that I am the young lad who loves to run in early morning before working hours.

As for my looks, I was still crawling to acknowledge it. But at least I wasn’t bothered by it that much anymore. It is what it is and I accept as it is.

Two Colleagues

Two of my former colleagues; a man and a woman occasionally called me, Handsome. I didn’t like it when they called me, Handsome. But I didn’t tell them up front. It was discomforting to be called that as most people portrayed me as something else.

One morning, I was approached by the male colleague. “Handsome, can you help me out with something?”

“Sure but wait, can I ask you something? Why do you keep calling me, Handsome?” I asked.

“Because you are?” He chuckled. He acted like I just asked him a no-brainer type of question.

I also asked my female colleague the same question. Ditto.

Hmm.

Narkissos

Several of my friends thought I was really fascinated by my own looks as I loved to stare at myself in a mirror.

Yes, it’s true that I used to stare at my own reflection quite a lot but it wasn’t because I was captivated by my looks.

I spent long minutes staring at myself in a mirror every single day to ask and to convince myself that I look decent because more and more people beginning to say so.

It was a daunting process to confront my own reflection when I was so used to avoiding it. I was terrified to meet my own reflection. It was like a meet up between Dr. Jekyll with Mr. Hyde. I was worried that I would pile up my mind with more confusion, doubts and questions.

In 2010, I was getting sick with my struggle. It was hurting me really badly.

I don’t remember exactly what I did but I slowly managed to overcome most of the problem. I managed to convince myself that I look good. Even if I am not, I don’t care. I will still convince myself that I look good. Always love yourself before you love others.

2010

I went to see a plastic surgeon in a private hospital on the very same year. I was seeking for a surgeon who can assist me to do a constructive surgery on my body. I needed to remove loose skin from my body due to morbid obesity. Loose skin is what you get from transforming yourself from 363lbs slob to a 220lbs fit man. It was some sort of punishment for gluttony.

I never thought that I would have to meet a plastic surgeon in my entire life. Let alone to be under a surgery knife.

I was told that the plastic surgeon that I was going to meet is a renowned surgeon who has an incredible resume with a lot of fancy certificates plastered on his wall. He is known to do a lot of cosmetic surgeries on local celebrities. I don’t follow celebrities and their glitzy lives so I wasn’t bothered to ask.

“Hello there.” He greeted me when I entered his room. We shook hands. He has a firm grip.

“So how can I help you?” He asked whilst resting cozily on his black leather chair. The plastic surgeon was in his mid 40. To be honest, I wasn’t comfortable with his body language. I don’t know why. He was a nice man but something about him doesn’t go well with me.

I explained to him my situation from A to Z and then without wasting any time, he asked me to remove all of my clothes. He wanted to examine my body.

In the end, he was excited not only to do surgery on my body but also to my face.

I was stunned.

My face?

Not this again. I thought.

According to him, I have lost few tissues on my face. Something like that. So he highly recommended me to do a face lift and insert cheek implants.

I frowned.

Is he implying that what my mom and few others said are actually true?

The surgeon continues to explain about the cheek implants’ surgery and types of implants. Whilst he explained, I wasn’t able to avoid myself from eying his face. Something wasn’t right. As rude as this may sound, his face proportion wasn’t natural. I’m sorry.

“Hmm…what’s wrong with it?” I asked myself.

Bingo!

I think he did something to his nose.

My instinct told me to say no to this surgeon.

I’m sorry, doc.

But I need a second opinion.

Second Opinion

Few months apart, I met another surgeon from another hospital.

My first impression? Very good.

The second surgeon was also in his 40s. He was comfortably dressed in a white striped shirt and a light brown trousers. His face was framed with a thin glasses. The surgeon presence was inviting and warm. He was very approachable and down to earth.

We discussed thoroughly about everything. I also informed him that I went to see another surgeon and how that surgeon recommended me to do an enhancement on my face. The second surgeon apparently knows who that surgeon is.

“There’s nothing wrong with your face. I think it is naturally structured as it is. I don’t think you need to insert cheek implants. Unless that’s what you want.” He explained.

Finally.

I was pleased and relieved when I heard that. See? There’s nothing wrong with my face. Everyone got it wrong.

The first surgery took approximately 8 hours to complete. It was successful. I took few months break to rest and to recover before I proceeded with the next 2 surgeries. In total, I have done 3 surgeries. I still have 2 major surgeries to go.

Whilst resting on a hospital bed after the third surgery, I was visited by a nurse. I’ve known her since the first surgery. The nurse and I had a conversation about my previous and upcoming surgeries.

“I think you can do a face lift too. It will only leave two tiny scars behind your ears.” She gently placed both of her index fingers behind my ears. Close to my earlobes.

Oh, boy.

Sigh.

Reflection

I’m fine now.

I’m not fully cured but I’m absolutely better than I was before. Sometime the sunken face mentality still knocks my head from time to time but it’s nothing serious. Although I have to admit one thing; As much I love to smile and grin like a dork at people, I don’t like to smile in a photo anymore.

I’m finally able to accept that I’m actually a looker. But I don’t boast. My feet have been nailed to the ground by my past. My experience makes me more human.

People seem to enjoy criticizing my face, body, weight and the way I live my life. I’m beginning to think people who love to criticize yours truly are people who are very insecure with themselves. Such a shame.

I believe that each one of us carries a responsibility to shape the person next to us to be a better individual. It only takes one person to change something into good or bad. So be wise in every step that you take whether to make a judgement, giving an opinion or executing an action. If you have nothing good or constructive thing to say to that someone, it’s better to just seal your lips and walk away.

Never Ending Story

There was this one particular guy in my gym who loves to tell his weight loss story to the other gym members. If my memory serves me correctly, he lost around 44lbs.

Good for him for losing weight.

Now this guy didn’t know about my history in weight loss as I prefer to stay low key. Majority of the gym members at the time thought I was thin and fit from the get go. I didn’t tell anyone about my background except to my former personal trainer.

To make the story short (I’m trying to), my story was eventually discovered by many and I was congratulated by them. One enthusiast gym member told my story to the weight loss guy.

“No wonder your face looks sunken.” The weight loss guy blurted it out loud without a twinge of regret.

I was surprised by his reaction. I didn’t fight back.

I thought it wasn’t worthy to return a bite because he did what he did due to envy. I can’t see a better explanation for his sudden immature attack on me. Maybe he was angry because I was getting the spotlight that he was looking for.

He stopped coming to the gym few days after. Strange man.

I wasn’t bothered by his words. I’ve been there, I’ve done that. Eric Idle of Monty Python once said, “Always look on the bright side of life.”

That is what I intent to do.