Fighter explores his feminine side

Kieran Nash succumbed to temptation. Photo / Jason Dorday

Reporter Kieran Nash has donned his boxing gloves for a good cause - raising money for KidsCan. The lead-up to a corporate fight night next month has unearthed some interesting developments.

I'm officially an athlete. You'd think this news would make me feel really masculine, what with me swilling protein shakes, possessing rippling ab muscles and a newfound ability to punch my opponents in the face. Strangely, though, it has put me in touch with my feminine side.

Let me explain how I came to be an athlete. It started this week when I saw Fiona Constantine, the nutritionist. This visit marked week six of the training schedule: past the halfway mark.

It's starting to show - a month ago I couldn't walk up a steep slope without losing my breath. Now I'm beating even the Airforce boys at some fitness tests.

I've also lost 4kg of body fat in three weeks and put on 3kg of muscle. That put me at 11 per cent body fat, catapulting my now-lean body into the "athlete" range on Fiona's body mass index chart.

I was chuffed - and it was all down to the brutal exercise, diet and me getting in touch with my feminine side.

It all started one night at the pub. After some constructive criticism from my colleagues, I swapped my water for Coke. A whole glass of sugary, fizzy Coke. And there were snacks on the table. Roasted, salted peanuts. A bowl of chips.

This is where it gets ugly: I caved. I ate the nuts. I ate the chips. It felt great.

Then on the way home, I had a moment I believed only women could relate to.

I was accosted by several huge, terrible pangs of guilt. "They weren't part of my diet! Sugar and fat? At night! OMG!"

Yes - I had cheated on my diet. The only way to mitigate this was to promise myself to do extra exercise in the morning.

Around the same time, I had my first waxing experience. For some reason I decided to tape my wrists up. Unfortunately, my wrists are covered with forests of black hair.

The adhesive quality of this tape was unknown to me. But when it was time for the tape to come off, I found out pretty quick. Two searing bouts of pain later and I had what appeared to be Clayton Cosgrove's eyebrows in my hands.

I'm also now worrying about underwear. Before, whatever was on the boxer shorts rack at Kmart would do. Not now. It has to be tight lycra. It's funny how hotpants for men are classed as Jockey "performance underwear".

Finally, I'm starting to know what it feels like to be on the receiving end in the ring.

Part of my training is sparring with opponents who are 20kg heavier. And it feels like they're not pulling their punches.

I spar for an hour before work. Ideal training for a day in the newsroom!

Next week, I'll let you know what fighting name I'll be using thanks to your many ideas.

If you'd like to help out my fundraising effort for KidsCan, a charity that helps young Kiwis in poverty, please visit www.fundraiseonline.co.nz/kierannash