This is the story of Abdulkareem Adisa — a man who weighed 123 kg at 40 years old and was very close to incurable health problems.
Adisa realized that he wasn’t willing to accept a life of a diabetic fat man. He chose another path.
I knew I had to take more drastic measures. I had to get my weight down to normal. I was miserable. I could barely zip up my XXXXXL trousers on my 112-118 cm waist. Even that size became too small soon. I regularly switched out my button-fastenings that didn’t stand the strain.
It became very difficult to find a proper shirt. XXL T-shirts rode up and button-down shirts fitted extremely tightly when I sat down. I didn't sleep well. When I was lying on the couch or in bed, I felt like a beached whale.
I came to this point for several reasons. It originated in my childhood.
I came to this point for several reasons. It originated in my childhood.
I never ran a whole mile from the beginning till the end without breaks and walks at a slow pace in my life.
By 2015, I weighed 119 kg and was very close to diabetes.
I decided that I had to change my life. I worried a lot about my wife. I didn’t want to make her a widow.
I started out with diets, as usual.
All diets work based on the same principle: if you consume fewer calories than you burn, your weight will go down.
But for some unknown reasons, you put on the same amount of weight and even more later.
After a few months of being on a diet I realized that a reduction of calories is not enough. I needed something else. Something more active and effective.
So I went to the gym. But I didn’t get the desired results either. So much physical and psychological torments. So many restrictions on the things I liked and not even minor results – all of these were reasons for my depression.
I started drinking heavily and put on all the weight that I managed to lose through my hard work along with another 8 kg.
It was obvious that this could not last long and when my wife left me, I realized that I had to fend for myself.
My new life started with an appointment with a therapist. I can imagine how miserable I was: a very strong fellow to the tune of 120 kg in tears and swollen. He wipes his eyes with a handkerchief, complains about how poor and miserable he is.
Of course, all my problems were sorted out. It was clear that without a doctor I suffered psychologically from excess weight, but I needed a solution for my problems.
My favorite Dr. Joan Sigma gave it to me. No, it wasn’t psychotherapy courses. The solution to all my problems was a little box
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