_Three Cheers for Lithesome Grace Regained!_
My advice to the man or the woman who is in the same fix I was in is to go
and do likewise, with variations to suit the individual temperament. It
means self-denial but self-denial persevered in is a virtue, and virtue he
will find--or she will--not alone is its own reward but a number of
additional rewards as well. Let my late fellow sufferer likewise patronize
the gymnasium and the steam room and the cold plunge if he so chooses. If
he desires to have automatic pores, all right. As for me, I recall what
the Good Book says about the pores which ye have always with ye, and I
decline to worry about the present uncultured state of mine. Let him try
the electric rollers and the electric baths, if such be his bent; no doubt
they have their value. And by all means let him consult a qualified
physician if he fears either that he is overdoing or underdoing his
banting. Personally, though, I am satisfied with the plan I tried out, of
being my own private test tube.
I claim that I have better information touching on what sustenance I need
than any outsider ever can hope to have unless he breaks into me
surgically. I claim that a series of rational experiments should tell any
rational human how much he needs to eat and what he needs to eat in order
to reduce his bulk and yet keep his powers and his bodily vigor
unimpaired. I am not speaking now, understand me, of those unfortunates
with whom obesity is a disease, but of those who owe their grossness of
outline to gluttony. Lacking vital statistics on the subject, I
nevertheless dare assert that these latter constitute fully 90 per cent of
those among the American people who are distinctly and uncomfortably and
frequently unhealthily fat.
Remains but one fly in the ointment. Since Tony Sarg is going to
illustrate this treatise, then Tony must revise the old working plans. For
my figure is not so much pro as once it was. It is more con, if you get my
meaning--the profile curves in toward, instead of being, as formerly, so
noticeably from.
Still, I should worry about the troubles of an artist, even though a
friend. I weighed myself this morning. Three months ago, when I set out to
reduce my belt line and my collar size, I snatched the beam down ker-smack
at two hundred and thirty-six pounds, stripped. This morning I weighed
exactly one hundred and ninety-seven, including amalgam fillings and the
rights of translation into foreign languages, including the Scandinavian.
One hundred and eighty-five pounds is my ultimate aim. Howsoever, I may
keep right on when I attain that figure and justify the title of this
book by taking a full one third off. In either event, though, I shall
know exactly where I am going and I'm on my way. And I feel bully and I'm
happy about it and boastfully proud.
Three rousing cheers for lithesome grace regained!
THE END
[Transcriber's note: Obvious typos in this project were corrected.]