The Fun of Getting Thin | Page 7

down and had it out with myself.
"Here!" I said to myself. "You big stuff, you now weigh two hundred and fifty pounds! In
another year or two you will weigh two hundred and seventy-five pounds! You are
uncomfortable and heavy on your feet, and you are gouty and wheezy; and it's a cinch
you'll die in a few years if you keep on this way. You know all this fat is caused by an
excess of food and drink, and you know it can be taken off by a reduction in those
fatmakers. Are you going to stick round here so fat you are a joke, uncomfortable,
miserable when it's hot, in your own way and in the way of everybody else, when, if

you've got the will-power of a chickadee, you can get back to reasonable proportions and
comfort merely by denying yourself things you do not need?"
All the old arguments obtruded. See what I should lose! Life would be a dull and dreary
affair--a dun, dismal proposition. I admitted that. On the other hand, however, life would
not be a wheezy, sweaty, choked-heart, uncomfortable proposition. I finally decided I
would go to it. And I did.
My method may be utterly unscientific. I suppose it hasn't a scientific leg to stand on.
Still, it did the business. And I maintain that results are what we are looking for. The end
justifies the means. I didn't figure out a diet. I had a dozen of them at home that had cost
me all the way from two dollars to two hundred and fifty dollars each. I didn't buy a
system of exercise. I read no books and consulted no doctors. What I did was this: I cut
down the amount of food I ate sixty per cent and I cut out alcohol altogether! I carried out
my argument to its logical conclusion so far as it concerned myself. I didn't give a hoot
whether it would help or hurt or concern any other person in the world. It was my body I
was experimenting on, and I did what I dad-blamed pleased and asked no advice--nor
took any.
Instead of a hot-bread--I have the greatest hot-bread artist in the world at my house, bar
none!--waffle, sausage, kidney-stew, lamb-chop, fried-egg and so forth sort of breakfast,
I cut that meal down to some fruit, a couple of pieces of dry, hard toast, two boiled eggs
and coffee. I cut out the luncheon altogether. No more luncheon for me! I cut down my
dinners to about forty per cent of what I had been eating. I diminished the quantity, but
not the variety. I ate everything that came along, but I didn't eat so much or half so much.
Instead of two slices of roast beef, for example, I ate only one small slice. Instead of two
baked or browned potatoes, I ate only half of one. Instead of three or four slices of bread,
I ate only one. I didn't deprive myself of a single thing I liked, but I cut the quantity away
down. And I quit drinking alcohol absolutely.
What happened? This is what happened: Eating food is just as much a habit as breathing
or any other physical function. I had got myself into the habit of eating large quantities of
food. Also, I had accustomed my system to certain amounts of alcohol. I was organized
on that basis--fatly and flabbily organized, to be sure, but organized just the same. Now,
then, when I arbitrarily cut down the amount of food and drink for which my system was
organized that entire system rose up in active revolt and yelled for what it had been
accustomed to get. There wasn't a minute for more than three months when I wasn't
hungry, actually hungry for food; when the sight of food did not excite me and when I did
not have a physical longing and appetite for food; when my stomach did not seem to
demand it and my palate howl for it. It was different with the drinking. I got over that
desire rather promptly, but with a struggle, at that; but the food-yearn was there for weeks
and weeks, and it was a fight--a bitter, bitter fight!
When I went to the table and saw the good things on it, and knew I intended only to eat
small portions of them, especially of my favorite desserts and my beloved hot-bread, I
simply had to grip the sides of my chair and use all the will-power I had to keep from
reaching out and grabbing something and stuffing it into my mouth! My friends used to

think it was all a joke. It was farther from being a joke than anything you ever heard
about. It was a