People tell me I’m not the fattest person on Earth and wonder why I chose to enrol in Original Bootcamp, an intensive fitness programme in Petlaing Jaya, Selangor. At 54kg and 158cm, they’re probably right about me not being fat enough to care, but I’m sticking to the plan, thanks – I have a dress to fit into.

At 27, I’ve led a somewhat healthy life. I was relatively active in school, getting pretty good workouts in the Girls’ Brigade, playing squash, tennis, and bowling. In university I jogged occasionally, maintaining my weight at 48kg. But as soon as I began working, I couldn’t find the time for outdoor activities.

Okay, maybe that’s an excuse, because you can always find the time if you make time. A little over a year ago, I began working out in the gym at my apartment.

Even though I work out at least once a week, nothing’s changed. The Gwen Stefani abs, the Jessica Alba butt, Jennifer Aniston arms and Madonna legs are as yet, a mere distant dream for me.

That’s because I spend those 30 minutes of gym time picking out songs on my Ipod, increasing and decreasing the intensity on my bicycle/treadmill/elliptical machine, and thinking about what to wear tomorrow. No one is standing there, checking up on me and making sure I push myself harder each time.

Maybe not “being fat” has been a contributing factor. My love handles are, so far “hide-able” with the right clothes, so there’s no real motivation for me to sweat it out.

Original Bootcamp recruits go through sets of intensive exercises three times a week in the early morning.

So, I decided that I’d shock my system. Last week, I joined Original Bootcamp with three friends, and have been to three sessions so far.

It was a shock all right. The first day, I was tired after two rounds of slow jogging and a few push-ups.

After a sip of water, we were put through a gruelling session of several exercise routines, and were only allowed to stop when the instructors said so.

There are around 40 of us in the 5.45am (yes, that’s right) session. I’m not sure of the exact number but the instructors sure do, and if there are fewer than the full number in attendance, or if someone comes late, everyone is punished with extra exercises – say another 10 push-ups, or 25 grunts.

So far we’ve carried tyres around the large field in PJ, ran with sacks and done army-type crawling. It seems like the instructors never run out of stuff for us to do.

During the hour of non-stop physical activity, with the threat of having to do extra exercises if we slack off or fail to complete the moves properly, the instructors watch us closely, shouting out motivational phrases like “You can do it! Keep going!”

Even when you feel like dying, or when you’re so tired your legs are turning into jelly and your fellow recruits begin panting and wailing in pain and fatigue, you are made to feel like you can do it.

Every movement is painful, but somehow you feel like you don’t have a choice, even though you know that you could walk away any second and they probably wouldn’t stop you.

It’s knowing that you have a goal to work towards – a few kilogrammes you want to shed, a wedding you have to be thin for, an endurance race you need to train for – that’s what keeps you going.

Ask me again why, at 54kg and 27 years of age, I want to “torture” myself and pay to be yelled at in the wee hours of the morning. Like I said, I have a dress to fit into.

To encourage Nasa’s bootcamp torture, follow her progress on rage.com.my/blog.

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