For most of my life, I've been pretty thin. After I hit 30, though, it became hard work. But I managed to stay thin, pretty much, by being disciplined (in bursts) about what I ate and working out (in even more erratic bursts). Then, New Year's Eve 2003, I gave up smoking. Over the next six months, my weight increased by 30 pounds. I remember calculating my weight by Christmas if I continued to gain five pounds a month. I panicked, I started working out, and the weight gain stopped, and over the last couple months, since I started running seriously, it's been falling off. I don't have scales any more, so I don't know exactly how much I've lost, but I know this:
I can fit into my skinny jeans! I can fasten the zipper the entire way! I wouldn't call them ready for prime time yet - Guy Noir would note that you could read the days of the week on my knickers - but I can put on my skinny Sevens jeans.
Isn't running brilliant, Ted?