Arya Permana, an Indonesian teenager who once weighed 421 lb (191 kg), was so big that he had to take showers outside in a specially constructed pool. Although he has been labeled the “world’s fattest kid,” he proves that hard work and setting goals always pay off. Let’s learn more about Arya’s story.
The boy was dubbed “the world’s fattest child.”
Arya Permana is 15 years old and used to eat 5 meals daily, including rice, fish, meat, vegetable soup, and a traditional soy patty. It was enough food to serve 2 adult people, on average. The little kid had to stop attending school since he’d quickly run out of breath while walking. Because his parents could no longer find clothes that fit him, Arya had been wearing nothing more than a sarong for a long time.
But eventually, he decided to make a change.
Arya Permana changed into a much slimmer version of himself from a boy weighing 421 lb (191 kg). The Indonesian student has lost a significant amount of weight at just 183 lb (83 kg), and he’s even been motivating others to adopt healthier lifestyles. Ade Rai, his trainer, assisted him in learning about physical activity and a balanced diet.
Arya is now a symbol of hope.
His trainer said that Arya initially weighed 187 lb (85 kg) before his appetite drastically grew. Now he is slimming down without losing his spirit. Notably, among adults, this is a rare quality. He’s become a symbol of hope, and now people say things like, “Even Arya can lose weight, so why can’t I?” The kid combines a strict training schedule with a nutritious diet and medical care. Ade Somantri, Aria’s father, claimed that his son’s weight loss was made possible by medical care, a strict exercise routine, and a diet.
Arya used not to be able to stand for more than a few minutes at a time. He can now play football and other sports with his pals and walk to school after undergoing a major operation to reduce the amount he eats. And we are so happy for him!
What are your goals that you’re determined to achieve no matter what? Do you have an inspiring story you want to share? We can’t wait to hear it!
Preview photo credit AFP/EAST NEWS, Future Publishing / Future Publishing / Getty Images
I Opened a Mysterious Door in My Cellar—Now I Regret Everything
I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.
You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.
When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.
I never believed in hidden doors or secret rooms; those were things from mystery stories. But when Florence and I decided to renovate our cellar, we found more than just a door behind the old wallpaper. It was something we were never meant to discover, and now, I wish I had never opened it.
You never truly understand a house until you’ve lived in it for some time. That’s what I always believed. Florence and I bought this old Victorian house five years ago. We called it our dream home. It had history, charm, and unique details, the kind of house with a past you could feel in every room.
When we started the renovation project, we thought we knew what we were getting into. The cellar was dark, damp, and unused. Peeling wallpaper and cracked tiles told us it hadn’t been touched in years. But we were excited about turning it into a useful space, maybe a wine cellar or storage room. That’s when we noticed something odd—a section of the wall that didn’t match the rest.
In the back corner, we found something even stranger: an old wooden chest, covered in dust and cobwebs. It was locked, but the lock seemed weak, like it could easily break. Florence begged me to leave it alone, but I was too curious. I forced it open, and what I saw made my heart race.
Inside were old documents, letters written in a language I didn’t understand, and something wrapped in a faded cloth. When I unwrapped it, I froze. It was a small, strange object that didn’t belong in this world. Florence screamed and ran out of the cellar, terrified.
I should have followed her, but I was too deep into it. I put everything back in the chest and closed the door, but the feeling that something had changed wouldn’t leave me. Since that day, things have been different. Strange noises, cold drafts, and shadows moving where they shouldn’t.
Now, I regret opening that door. Florence refuses to go back into the cellar, and I can’t sleep at night. I don’t know what we uncovered, but I fear we’ve let something into our home that we can’t control. Every day, I wish I had just left the door hidden behind the wallpaper, where it belonged.
Now, the cellar remains locked. I’ve sealed the door with heavy boards, hoping that will keep whatever we disturbed at bay. Florence refuses to go near it, and our once happy home feels suffocating with the tension between us. It’s like the house itself has changed, like it’s watching us.
At night, I hear whispers coming from the floor below. I try to convince myself it’s just the wind or my imagination, but deep down, I know something’s wrong. The object I found in the chest haunts my thoughts—I’ve hidden it away, but it’s like it calls to me. Florence says I need to get rid of it, but I’m too afraid to touch it again.
I tried contacting the previous owners, but they didn’t know anything about the hidden room. They had lived here briefly before selling the house. No one in the neighborhood seems to know its history, and records of the house are vague. It’s like this part of the house was meant to stay forgotten.
I keep telling myself everything will be fine if I just leave it alone, but the strange occurrences are getting worse. Lights flicker, doors creak open on their own, and sometimes, I catch glimpses of something moving in the dark corners. It feels like the house is alive—angry that we disturbed its secret.
Florence is talking about moving, and maybe she’s right. But part of me knows that whatever we let out, whatever we disturbed, might not stay behind. And now, I wonder if sealing that door was just the beginning of something far more terrifying.
I never should have opened that door.
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