I was always proud of being thin built. Being short and slight, my weight always hovered around the mid-50 kg mark. My elder brother and father too were like that. We were all fast walkers.

The first attack on the midriff came immediately after my wedding. The doctor said he would have been concerned if I had not put on weight—a little addition to the weight. Then, with age, it kept adding up bit by bit but was always under control. All my pants had become ill-fitting to this ugly bulge. Losing hope of going back to the olden days, I decided to have pants stitched, for no readymade garment was made for my unshapely self. My wife casually asked what would happen if I lost weight again?

For almost two years, I had hardly used these pants, and when I did try them just before going to the U.S., the pants had grown bigger or, oh sorry, my waist had reduced. So, they needed alteration. A few months down the line, the pants looked loose-fitting. I threw them into a corner, using night pants or tracks even for outings. In the U.S., everything would be accepted.

Then came the pleasure of experiencing a heart attack, followed swiftly by cancer, and I lost a further 12 kgs.

This time, the tailor in India said there was no way these could be altered. Now I have safe-kept them in the faint hope that I may, at some point in time, gain weight again.

But it should be said that I am 62 kgs now, ideal for my height. So why should I worry? Why not try my best to keep it at that level? We can say goodbye to these old-new pants because most of them are unused and donate them.

My worry now is that after the radiation, increased protein intake, and ADT injections, will I put on weight?

Hope there would be an innovation to make waist-adjustable pants.

It was during my last two years of my career that, at my sons’ insistence, I started taking an auto for the commute. Around six or seven years back, a couple of medicines were prescribed for some sort of neuropathic condition, and this culprit ensured I liberally gained weight. The midriff was announcing itself prominently and obnoxiously. Then came the pandemic, and this expanded without any restraint.

With purses a little fuller, though not overflowing, I yielded to this temptation. Very rarely do temptation and yielding separate themselves. Within two years, with the exciting adventurous exercise—equivalent to the thrilling bus ride gone—fat started residing in the body. I did put on weight. The paunch was regally but discreetly showing up.

Continued in 223 - Ballet in the Bath- Part 1