Running down the gym

So London Preppy came to assess my gym which you probably may have read about.

I thought it would be a little fun - and it's kinda weird too now that I think about it.

Someone who I've never met before, for a moment, comes to get a first-hand glimpse into my life while I'm not there.

A lot of my time is spent at the gym, about an average of three days a week for the last three years. In sense it means a lot to me.

You may have seen these pictures before, you may have not, but they're of me.

They were photographed from an old mobile phone so they're a little grainy but what isn't difficult to decifer is my waist.

You can also see the total lack of pectoral development and basically, I just look a complete mess.

They were taken in January 2005, shortly after New Year when, at the time, I was going through a pretty rocky period in life.

I had a job I seriously hated and couldn't do, I drank excessively and somehow managed, in the previous year, to rack up a massive debt.

I flew first class return to South Africa, bought laptops and CDs and clothes and ate out and got drunk on champagne most nights.

I was running away from myself, trying to drown my sorrows in booze and then shopping on the bank's money to try and make myself feel better. In short, I was in a very bad place when I took those pictures.

The next morning I decided to do something about it and signed up for the gym. It is gym I am still go to.

It is now November 2007. That debt (£12,000 / $24,000 at the time) is all but cleared. You know that I now probably drink once a week if that.

And my waistline?

Well, you can see in my profile picture - the one on the right of me standing in front of the Union flag - just how much I've changed.

All I'll say to you is that that picture is nearly six months old.

People criticise and they say; "oh, you're so gay because you're always at the gym" or "you're such a body fascist because you spend so much time there". Usually I just nod, smile and change the subject.

I never say to them that it actually nearly saved me.

Stick around and tomorrow I'll post a few pictures, to show you just how much things have changed.

It's not body-facism, it's not "gay". It's about just doing it. I know that sounds cliched but it's the lesson I've learnt, through blood, tears and a lot of sweat.