Last January Romesh Ranganathan decided he wanted to get fitter and feel better. Could he stick to his plan?
It has long been a source of amusement to my friends that I have maintained such a hefty bulk despite my veganism. It is true: I have taken being vegan as a sign that I shouldn’t deprive myself any further, and am guilty of gravitating towards the junk food end of the plant-based spectrum. I once ate four huge filled doughnuts in one sitting on the basis that vegans rarely get nice doughnuts, and “they were probably made of kale or something”.
A year ago, I decided something had to be done. My father died of a heart attack, and my body shape ticked all the boxes of someone headed the same way. There was another issue. My dissatisfaction with the way I look means I tend to wear one or two more layers of clothing than the season dictates. I can often be found at a bar sweating profusely, which, besides preferring the Crawley Pizza Express to the Woking branch, is another degree of separation I am proud to have from Prince Andrew.
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