Michael: I am in the midst of an intense personal journey. It's one that I have commenced and then ignored multiple times in my life.

I'm 32 years old. And for as long as I can remember I have been fat. It is only in the last year that I have honestly admitted this fact to myself. Until then I would think I'm a bit overweight, chubby or solid. But at 108.4kg I was fat. I was unfit. I was eating badly. And I was risking my quality of life and indeed my life itself.

How did I let it get so bad?

I'm a hard working and driven person. I have a good job, a beautiful wife and a baby son. If I want something, I work hard and get it. Yet I jeopardised my own health and wellbeing by being medically obese.

My weigh-in in August 2010 at 108.4kg wasn't the biggest I've ever been. I tipped the scales at more than 120kg as an 18 year old. Having lost weight through diet and exercise at that time to be below 110kg, I convinced myself it was alright.

It wasn't.

Occasionally I would have an epiphany and decide to diet, or exercise, but soon after I started I would find a rationale as to why I could revert to my old behaviours. A dim sim at lunch was ok as I had been to the gym that morning. Two sausage rolls were ok for lunch because it was Friday and everyone lets their hair down on a Friday. Or I might have sushi because it's healthy - aside from the refined carbohydrates and sugar in the rice. Perhaps the strangest idea was that if I had a sushi roll and a sausage roll, I convinced myself that the good and bad would cancel each other out! I'd always say "I'll have this bad food today and start the good eating tomorrow" - but we know that tomorrow never comes.

So food was a problem.

Exercise would come and go. Actually, it was more go.

Instead, I would find myself seeking the weight loss equivalent of a get rich quick scheme. The liquids only diet, the no carbs diet, I hired a crosstrainer that sat in my lounge room largely untouched for three months. Perhaps my weirdest thought - some years ago - was to get a knife and chop my belly off. Obviously I didn't.

Last year, my life insurer slapped a 50 per cent loading on my premium to recognise the additional risk my weight posed. So if I couldn't acknowledge it was costing me physically, it now was financially.

A lifelong addiction to carbs - I love bread - a poor exercise regime, too much sugar and too much wine were the reasons for my weight.

At school I was "chubby cheeks", "fatso" or "happy jolly Clarkie". My weight influenced many of my personal relationships and almost led my now wife to decline a request for a first date. I'm forever grateful she saw through the lard to the real me.

A year ago this week, my world changed.

My son Hamish was born on 30 April 2010. A beautiful masterpiece, he is already at just one year old both my greatest ever achievement and the most wonderful part of my life. From three months of age he looked at me, knowingly, with pure adoration in his eyes. Lifting him above my head as a bench press would make him laugh. It would make me breathless. And then, one night, he grabbed my flubby stomach and squeezed. I didn't feel much. He was holding what I presume was pure fat. It had minimal nerve endings. My son thought he was connecting with me and yet I could feel nothing.

It was at this point I decided something had to change. Not only was my obesity affecting my son now, it would mean he may not have a father who lived to old age. Boys need their fathers.

My wife had mentioned a week before that I should get back to the gym. A newborn baby with poor sleep patterns and bad reflux meant exhaustion won out in preference to any form of exercise. But with new resolve I asked my wife to investigate my exercise options. I couldn't train at night, needing instead to be at home with my son before bed. Nor could I train early in the morning before work, given our erratic sleep patterns.

Finding a personal training studio in the same building as my office would prove perfect. With a new sense of purpose - I wouldn't call it enthusiasm - I made a time for an initial consultation at Aston Fitness.

This would be my fifth personal trainer in seven years. Moving states was the reason for the changes. I always enjoyed training with a trainer, it meant I did exercise that I wouldn't otherwise do.

Nikki, the principal trainer, asked for a three day food diary before my consult. She weighed me. 108.4kg. I was obese and needed to drastically change my diet. Nikki told me 80 per cent of my weight loss would come through changes to my diet. The rest would be sorted through training with a senior trainer, Al, twice a week and walking on at least three other days. She told me that I could be 15kg lighter by Christmas if I wanted. That was four months away.

She gave me a sample food menu and told me what I couldn't eat. Processed carbs were out (except an occasional treat) for the duration of my weight loss phase. As much fruit and vegetables as I liked except potato, corn, grapes, mango or banana. I had to eat breakfast. And I had to eat approximately 300g of lean protein a day. No more foccacias, dim sims, sausage rolls, hamburgers, soft drink, carbs. I said sure. Inside I was terrified.

The first few days were hell; as if I were coming off a heroin addiction. I had headaches, felt tired and lethargic and could not understand how I could survive on a lower carb diet. I questioned whether the approach was sustainable as I confirmed the truth - my addiction to carbs was the biggest contributor to my being fat.

To keep me honest and on the straight and narrow, Al required that I submit a daily food diary to him via email. He would reply with advice and commentary on how I was going. "A few mistakes but mostly on target," he would say. My weight began to drop.

At this point only my wife knew what I was doing. I didn't want anyone else to know for fear that I would fail. I would take my workout clothes down to the gym and change there, to avoid my colleagues noticing what I was doing. I changed my diet and would eat salads when going out for work lunches. I managed to keep what I was doing secret for some time.

The training sessions were terrific, with Al giving challenging and varied exercises. Boredom was never an issue.

And my weight continued to fall. Small increments - we're not talking 7kg a week like on The Biggest Loser.

Now, after seven months, I weigh 88.7kg. My original goal weight was 87kg. I think it's going to need to change. I don't like my spare tire!

I've told Al. I need his help.

It's hard. Every day I have to commit to eat right. I have to look at the photo of my son and remind myself why I am doing this.

I've applied to my insurer to have my loading removed. That will happen.

I'm committed this time. And I'm feeling the benefits.

My wife says I look more handsome. My son still looks at me with the innocent adoration that started this journey.

Hamish is a gift to me. I hope one day to be able to share with him the gift he has given me. I'd like to thank him for it.