Tonight finally witnessed the pilot episode of this reality show for Pinoy heavyweights who, under the guidance of health and wellness experts, aspire to get rid of their excess pounds and/or baggage and vie for the winning title, P1 million cash, a condominium unit and a Vespa scooter. Thanks to my company's observance of the Memorial Day, I get to watch this episode in the comfort of my own home.
Special thanks to Derek Ramsay for being my favorite cardio workout!
All contestants had their own difficult past to turn away from and burning desire to return to their loved ones in better shape. I can relate to most of their sob stories, but the real star in my eyes would have to be the chef/restauranteur Eboy Bautista. I used to see him in the confines of Sykes Asia and, I admit, I used to concern myself if he'd fit in the elevator or what. It was amazing to see how his seemingly fun-loving nature reflects onscreen. When he smiles, I feel myself smile along with him. With his charming personality and his heavy appearance (he's the biggest at 488 pounds), Eboy is hard to miss.
Based on his interviews, there's sadness beneath his jolly exteriors. Losing his father to cancer, he aims to become a portrait of fitness and inspire the rest of his family to switch to an active, healthy lifestyle. Know what? I'm crossing my fingers for his victory. Either way, being casted as a contestant in this show proves to be a win-win situation already. I just hope he remains focused to his goal and succeed in his ongoing preventive combat against health concerns. Way to go, dude! I won't get to watch anymore as I'm on graveyard shift.
His presence in the show made me retrace my body acceptance journey back to 2004. It was the time I recognized I was growing too comfortable with the call center lifestyle - too accustomed to saccharine treats after stressful exchanges with American clients, too addicted to all-important diss/cussions over alcohol with chums and too accommodating to excuses that would keep me away from the soothing arms of my bed.
I sprang into action. I attended yoga classes, took gym membership, got impatient with my weight loss, resorted to diet pills, realized it was an upper, started overindulging, ceased caring since everyone's gaining weight, too, and so on. Looking back, I realized I hardly took care of myself. I was always there for everybody else but myself and I was hell-bent to attain what I thought what I wanted to improve myself (namely, juggling graveyard shift, graduate studies and, in one point, business start-up). Just like every youthful fools there is, I thought I can sleep when I finally kick the bucket. Now I know better. Treat your mind and soul well and you treat your body well. You can't focus on one and hope it will compensate for the other.
Now that I'm back to the graveyard shift after a good year of sound night sleep and 6 months of mostly-chillax bumhood, the Curacha in me really tries my best to pause for a thanksgiving prayer, insert dreamland in my itinerary and consume 80% raw food for detox and give out more energy in my daily exploits. I know I will leave this nocturnal lifestyle soon enough, just you wait.