The Truth Behind “Staying the Same”

People often ask me, sometimes with genuine curiosity and sometimes with disbelief, how I’ve managed to maintain my body the way it was years ago. I hear things like, “You must have good genes,” or “You’re just naturally like that.”

The truth? That would be a lie.

There is nothing effortless about it. My body, like anyone else’s, is capable of gaining weight, losing firmness, and showing signs of ageing. My face, my skin, my shape — none of it is immune to time. What you see today is not luck or magic. It is the result of years of discipline, sacrifice, and showing up even when I don’t feel like it.

Most mornings, I wake up at 5am — not because I’m naturally energetic, but because I force myself to. I rarely get a full eight hours of sleep. The air is cold, my body feels heavy, and my mind constantly whispers, “Just stay in bed.”

And sometimes, I think about how others are still asleep, wrapped in warm blankets, lost in comfortable dreams… while I’m outside, pushing my body to run.

It’s never easy. It never suddenly becomes enjoyable.

But I go anyway.

Because those runs — accumulating at least 100km every month — are what keep me grounded. I choose to run before sunrise not just for consistency, but also to protect my skin from harsh sunlight. It’s a small decision, but one that adds up over time.

The results are not dramatic. There is no overnight transformation. But slowly, quietly, it maintains me.

And it doesn’t stop there.

Every Thursday, I dedicate at least 90 minutes to swimming, burning up to 700 calories in a single session. As I approach 40, I’ve also pushed myself into strength training — not because I love it, but because I know my body needs it. Muscle doesn’t maintain itself. Strength doesn’t come without effort.

Then comes food — the part many people underestimate.

My diet is intentional. High protein (often equivalent to two chicken breasts), plenty of fibre from vegetables and fruits, chia seeds, matcha without milk. While others reach for sweet drinks, I stick to warm water or Chinese tea. And when I do crave something indulgent like teh tarik, I dilute it — taking only 20–30% of the sweetness.

It’s not about restriction. It’s about control.

Even my skincare follows the same philosophy — simple, consistent, disciplined. Gua sha, hydration, and lots of water. Nothing extreme. Just commitment.

So when people say, “You’re lucky,” I smile.

Because maybe it sounds like a compliment. Maybe it is one.

But there’s also a quiet frustration behind it — because it erases the effort. It turns years of discipline into something accidental. It makes hard work invisible.

This body is not magic.

It is built on mornings I didn’t want to wake up.

On workouts I didn’t feel like doing.

On choices I made when no one was watching.

And if there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s this:

Consistency will never look as exciting as talent.
But over time, it wins — every single time.