I tried closing my eyes again to imagine while lying on my bed in a Paris hotel. I couldn’t. Nobody could, I suppose, unless they are trapped in that defining moment when perception collides with judgment – when the world decides your worth based on appearance, wealth or utility.
We live in a superficial age, where the surface often overshadows the soul. Yet beneath it all, there is always a real person, screaming for acceptance, desperate for belonging in a society that too often rejects them.
For me, that scream became a turning point. My health journey began in December last year, sparked not by vanity but by necessity. It started in Paris, France, during a tech launch event.
At the time, I weighed over 120 kilogrammes, wore size 42 jeans and double XL shirts. I was carrying more than just physical weight – I was burdened by insecurity, fatigue and the silent fear of what my future might hold.
Paris wake-up call
One evening, the team planned to walk to dinner. It was a short distance – just 1.2 kilometres, about 13 minutes away – but with a steep incline. For most, it was nothing.
For me, it was daunting. I had been struggling with shortness of breath ever since battling Covid, and the thought of that walk filled me with dread.
We set off, and within 300 metres, I stopped, exhausted. My companions were gracious, waiting patiently, encouraging me to push on.
I did eventually make it, but the embarrassment cut deep. Back at the hotel, I broke down in tears. I didn’t want to be the person who struggled with something as simple as walking to dinner. That night, I resolved to change.
Doctor’s warning
Returning home, I consulted my doctor. His words were blunt, and they shook me.
“Boss, if you don’t look after yourself, you are going to be a diabetic, with high blood pressure and on oxygen.”
At the time, I was already on medication for blood pressure, cholesterol and asthma. I felt unattractive, unhealthy and defeated. Even though my wife adored me regardless, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was failing her – and myself.
So, I told my doctor: “Book me into Milpark Hospital for a full physical. I need to sort myself out.”
The lab results were sobering. A sheet filled with ticks marked the tests I needed. That was the moment my journey truly began.
Hard road of change
December 2025 marked the start of my transformation. I cut out bread, sweets, soft drinks and most meats. My diet shifted to grilled chicken and fish. I began walking up to six kilometres a day.
Some evenings, after long workdays, I felt too tired, too lazy. But I forced myself out the door, sun or rain, whispering: “Don’t give up. You can do it.”
The first weeks were extremely brutal. My body ached, my mind resisted and temptation lurked everywhere. But slowly, the light began to shine.
The kilos dropped, the clothes sizes shrank. By May, I weighed just over 80 kilogrammes – down more than 40 kilos. My jeans and shirts fell by four sizes.
A new problem emerged: none of my old clothes fit. But that was a problem I welcomed. I loved the new me. More importantly, my family and friends loved the new me too. Their support was genuine, their pride palpable.
At the airport, colleagues from tech launches barely recognised me. Before boarding a flight to Barcelona for the Mobile World Congress (MWC), they stared in disbelief. I felt better than I had in years.
And when my doctor cut my medication dosage in half, I knew the pain had been worth it.
Recognition and reflection
The changes weren’t just physical. In Madrid and Barcelona, I noticed something new – occasional smiles, conversations, even attention from strangers who would never have approached me before. It was flattering, but it also made me reflect on the cruelty of superficial judgment.
In my hotel room in Madrid, I thought about the heartache endured by those who don’t fit in, who are dismissed because of their bodies. I had been there. I knew the sting. And I wanted to help others escape it.
That resolve deepened when I met Eliud Kipchoge, the legendary Kenyan marathoner. Someone had told him about my weight loss, and we spoke briefly. His advice was simple but profound:
“Encourage and motivate them.”
Those words became my mission. I began sharing my walks, recording stats on my smartwatch and posting them on social media. My message was clear: “A better you starts with one step.”
No secrets, no shortcuts
People often ask: “What’s the secret? How did you lose so much weight?” The truth is stark: there is no secret. No miracle cure. Just sweat, tears and relentless hard work.
It takes courage to say no to burgers, chocolates and desserts. It takes willpower to choose healthier options, day after day. I remind myself constantly: it was so difficult to get here, why would I ever go back? Why would I return to that steep Paris walk, gasping for breath, humiliated?
This journey is mine, for my family and me. The struggle never ends. Even at my goal weight, I must maintain balance, discipline and resolve. Because health is not a destination – it is a lifelong path.
The future I choose
I often think of a line from Back to the Future, when Dr Emmet Brown tells Marty McFly and Jennifer: “Your future hasn’t been written yet. No one’s has. Your future is whatever you make it. So, make it a good one.”
That quote resonates deeply. My future is unknown to me; I am determined to persevere and make it healthy, vibrant and full of life.
Take that first step
And to anyone beginning their own journey, hesitant to take that first step, I echo Ferris Bueller’s wisdom: “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
So don’t miss it. Take that step. Sweat, struggle, cry if you must, but move forward. Because beneath the surface, beyond the judgment, there is a stronger, healthier, happier you waiting to be discovered.
In the end, my story is not about weight loss alone – it is about reclaiming dignity, health and self‑belief in a world that too often measures worth by appearances.
I have learned that transformation is not born of shortcuts or secrets, but of sweat, sacrifice and the courage to face yourself honestly. The steep walk in Paris that once broke me now fuels me, reminding me that every step forward is a victory over fear and doubt.
And so I say to anyone standing at the edge of change: your future is unwritten, but your pen is in your hand. Write it with resilience, write it with hope, and above all, write it with the conviction that you deserve to be the best version of yourself.
