FOR as long as I could remember, I've been bullied and taunted about my weight. Just a few years ago, a friend of my parents' had made fun of me to my face.
"You don't look like you've missed too many good meals in your life," he sneered.
I remember crying myself to sleep that night.
Gyms were intimidating and after a few furtive trips to those gleaming buildings where toned people in spandex sweated over treadmills, I gave up.
"Gym-timidation" is real, and it's not just the business model or ignorant staff. It's the culture. It's the weights being on a different floor, or in a separate room. It's the skimpy towels (fattist). It's the posters of smiley, young, slim, able-bodied people on the cross trainers.
It's the skinny nubile patrons in tight spandex outfits sweating on machines and distant personal trainers who put me through punishing routines that made me sore all over and made me want to give up my resolution in despair. It didn't help that I felt like a clingfilmed sausage in my exercise gear!
Nothing could compensate for how much I ate when I abandoned my gym plan or the latest weight-loss scheme. I'd become a living example of the adage: A resolution is something one embraces, then gets off.
One day I saw myself in a mirror and cried; I decided I wasn't going to be fat anymore. I wrote it down on a piece of paper: I WILL NEVER BE FAT AGAIN.
Scrolling through my Facebook, I chanced upon a post Noel Chelliah had put up. "I'm looking for people who want to drop dress sizes." Ah. I perked up. Dropping dress sizes seemed a lot more do-able.
To-may-to or to-mah-to: it was the same objective. But somehow the 41-year-old managed to make it sound a whole lot palatable than what it actually was. I was keen. After all, it wasn't as if I was signing my life away. "Six weeks," he said. Not exactly a lifetime commitment.
"You need to know your WHY" he announces to a group of nervous (and sceptical) participants who attend his briefing. We're ensconced in a mirrored room where weights and kettlebells are arranged neatly in a corner.
There's no spandex-clad fitness coach in sight. Instead, the earnest man in front of us tells us simply: "It's not impossible to shed the pounds. You just got to want it bad enough."
There's an earthy gracefulness about him; from the inconspicuous t-shirt and jeans he wears, to the way he avoids barking cliches and peddling weight-loss potions that come with a 100 per cent guarantee.
There's also no piddling around. Nutrition, a decent diet and exercise. "I know exactly how you feel," he says, adding: "I've been in your shoes." But he tells us firmly that there aren't any shortcuts to fitness.
His formula is simple: "Fitness is really for everyone and any exercise is better than no exercise."
Try us out, he urges. See how you feel. Like a newly-converted believer at a tent revival meeting, I'm sold on his enthusiasm. After all, six weeks isn't a long time. And I really needed to do something about my love-handles.
I'm in my 40's and overweight. I want to fall in love with exercise, but I've struggled. I keep trying new things. I keep trying old things, including the gym.
But the message is clear: most gyms haven't considered the needs of someone over a size 14. It's almost as if they don't care about attracting a chubby clientele, which makes no sense: surely large people are exactly the sort of people who should feel welcome.
It already feels different over at here at DailyMuscle. "It is different," he assures us. "This is a gym for people who don't like gyms!" A pithy statement, indeed. But it works with me.
So I sign up. Just a week later, I attend my first class.
There are lots of things to be mildly anxious about when you join a group class for the first time. I'd imagined the room to be full of 25-year-old, nubile women popping their joints before I'd even got my sports bra adjusted.
But when I look in the mirrored wall, I realise how wrong I am. I'm not the oldest or the only big girl in there. There is, however, the nubile coach in spandex.
There's also something about a group class filled with mostly women of all shapes and sizes. I'm not alone in not being able to do a push-up or a full squat. Yet I don't feel like an outsider.
Maybe it's the endorphins. Maybe it's the music. Maybe it's the cheering of fellow participants who are grunting and going (suffering) through the same movements with me. The struggle of jolting our bodies out of lethargy is shared. For once, I'm not alone.
Fast forward six weeks later, I see results. I couldn't believe this magical life I was suddenly living where I could put pants on without having to lie down and use all my strength to button and zip them. Best of all, I grew to love my workouts.
The emergence of boutique fitness like Noel's fitness centre as a game changer in the fitness industry has highlighted the importance of creating a fitness community. For the personal trainer and nutritionist, community remains the heart of his gym.
"Having a community of people who won't give up on you is important," he explains, smiling. "I wanted to create an inclusive environment that makes fitness fun."
GROWING UP PAINS
He didn't always find fitness fun, he admits. "I understand the struggle. I know what it's like to be jeered and taunted because I was that overweight kid back in school."
Half-a-beat later, he confesses sheepishly: "And I really hated Pendidikan Jasmani (Physical Education)!"
The problem with fat shaming started early for him. During his school days he encountered many school bullies.
"I'm sure that there are certain things they said or did to me, one particular fat kid, that they've long forgotten about, but which I will remember for the rest of my life," he says frankly.
He admits to not liking school. "I wasn't the smartest in class. I didn't like mathematics, I didn't like sports. I wasn't fit," he shares, wincing. This will come as no surprise to people who were once fat kids dreading PE.
The cross-country running made no concession to different children's abilities to do such a thing, and means you're out on the roads for so much longer if you're overweight. The enforcing of shorts that don't flatter anyone, but are particularly awkward for bigger-bodied kids whose bulges are accentuated.
The memories obviously sting. "As you get on to your teenage years, you become increasingly aware of your shortcomings," he says.
"I became self-conscious. I didn't know how to lose the weight. I just accepted the fact that I was obese. I was made fun of and unpopular."
Any fat person could have told you that being humiliated by being picked on in front of all your peer group doesn't make anyone want to reach for a salad.
"Negative reinforcements often become counterproductive," he agrees.
He was the fat boy nobody wanted on their teams, he recalls, quipping that he wasn't smart enough to compensate for his physical failings.
"I loved English and did extremely well at Scrabble competitions. That wasn't enough though. I was still bullied, picked on and occasionally assaulted. My school days weren't the best of times for me," he reveals candidly, adding without rancour: "When you look a certain way, no one wants to hang with you."
When he showed up at school for the final time when collecting his SPM results, he was relieved that part of his life was over.
"That chapter was finally closed. I never wanted to go through that again," confides Noel.
BUILDING BLOCKS
The youngest of three boys, he tells me that nutrition wasn't really a familiar subject in his family. "We kind of accepted that we were big eaters," he says, chuckling.
That changed when his brother who was applying for a pilot's training programme had to lose weight. "He managed to lose the weight, and suddenly a light bulb lit. If he could do it, then there was hope for me too!" he says, grinning.
It was his mother who insisted that he join a gym. "She paid for my membership and drove me to there!" he recounts, grinning.
Back in the days, gyms generally comprised male-dominated, testosterone-filled shop lots where muscled men dominated weight racks and the smell of stale sweat hung in the air.
"You walk up this dingy staircase into the gym, to be confronted by intimidating guys who clearly resemble the bullies you encountered at school!" he recalls, laughing.
He hated it at first.
"Here was this overweight 19-year-old who didn't quite know what to do in the gym, and these bunch of muscled men who watched," he recalls. But there was a marked difference.
"These guys… they looked intimidating but they were more than willing to help out an inexperienced kid."
After the first visit, he was so sore, "I couldn't put my shirt on the next day without my mum's help. My muscles had tensed up."
But he grew to enjoy his fitness routine and began to see results. And as he got stronger, he felt better. "It made me feel I can handle myself," Noel says.
He liked the fact he could sculpt his physique and as his body began to transform, the confidence came on.
"My muscles were showing. I could roll up my sleeves. It was such a huge thing for me. Back at school, I had no confidence. And now? I began to dress up differently. Mind you, I didn't lose all the weight at once. It was a journey. But it was the beginning of a lifelong love affair with fitness," he shares.
DIFFERENT PATH
The computer science graduate initially worked in the IT field.
"I just had one CV, got an interview and stayed on with the company for eight years!" he shares, grinning. He did everything from creating content, designing websites to customer service.
In the meantime, his interest in fitness slowly began to build. "It became part of my routine from college," he says, revealing that he began to slowly read up on fitness and subscribe to fitness and muscle magazines.
When gleaming new fitness chains began to make an appearance in Malaysia, Noel was one of the first to sign up. He was introduced to the brand new idea of personal trainers in uniforms.
"I could see that this was a legit career. I naturally had an interest."
A late night at the office resulted in him creating a blogsite called DailyMuscle.
"I started a blog to vent out my frustrations because I'd see things being done in a gym that I believed could be done differently. 'Look at how this trainer treats his client. So unprofessional!' Where to go and rant, right? Had no Facebook at that time!"
There weren't many local sites that gave such honest feedback or provided essential information on fitness and nutrition. Soon, gym owners and fitness enthusiasts started to take notice of his blogsite.
"Nobody knew who I was. DailyMuscle became my alter-ego of sorts!" he quips.
Computer geek by day, fitness champion by night? I tease.
"Exactly!" he replies, grinning.
It wasn't long before his blogsite would open countless doors for him and ultimately leading him to the path of a fitness trainer.
"A company noticed that I'd become an 'influencer' of sorts through my blog and offered to sponsor the certification course to become a trainer myself."
After passing his exams, making personal training his full-time job soon became the natural step.
"I realised that my love for fitness soon overshadowed my career as an IT specialist," he shares.
What did his conservative parents think of that? I ask.
"They trusted my decision despite their misgivings. I think it's because I had such a clear vision of what I wanted to do and the potential of this industry. When I started appearing in magazines and articles, they realised that their son is on to something!" he replies, smiling.
He soon developed a small clientele which earned him "a decent income".
When he left his job, he was initially pleased that he didn't need to wake early to beat the rush hour to get to work.
"I was so wrong!" he says, laughing. He had clients who wanted to train with him as early as 6 am. "I was actually working crazy hours in this new role but I enjoyed every minute of it."
As his clientele grew, the fitness instructor realised that group classes could be the answer to his punishing schedule.
"Bootcamps were beginning to sprout around the Klang Valley and I figured I could do the same. I had clients, I had my blog and I could simply start something as simple as that."
People signed up. On the first day of bootcamp, 20 people showed up.
"I realised that group classes were fun, and I got to help more people. What's more, they could help each other too."
There were days, he tells me with a laugh, when nobody showed up.
"Those were defining moments," he insists. "I'd drive all the way from my home in Klang to be at Taman Tun Dr Ismail at 6am… and then it rains!"
But these were small stepping stones that have eventually led to a successful career in the fitness industry.
In 2012, Noel won the Asia Fitness Convention "Fitness Idol" competition, placing him among Asia's elite coaches. He's also Malaysia's first Precision Nutrition (PN) Level 1 Certified Coach and the only Malaysian to possess a TT (Turbulence Training) Certification.
Today, Noel and his wife Kimbeley run the cosy indoor gym called DailyMuscle Lighthouse in Glomac Damansara. His motivation remains ever as simple as when he first started: "Fitness is an invitation, never an intimidation"
He has built his business around the premise that the gym should be accessible to everyone. On his website, he writes: "You know that socially awkward person in the gym? The one who isn't colour-coordinated, doesn't wear fancy fitness brands, too shy to ask for help? That was me."
He may not be the only personal trainer and gym owner with a powerful life story. For many trainers, it's the enormous change to their health and happiness they experience at the gym that leads them into their chosen field — whether they've lost weight, gained strength or tackled physical or mental health issues.
What lessons can we take from fitness leaders who have transformed their lives?
"Don't look at how much you've got to lose," advises Noel. "If someone had bluntly told me I needed to lose a huge amount of weight, what do you think that would have done for my morale? What I had to do was make each day the best I could and try to make the best choices."
And sometimes, as Noel would attest and I would later find out, those choices can help change your life — and dress size!