I had been dropping about a pound a week, on average, for most of the last year. I mentioned it elsewhere, but I did it simply by eating less, which, one has to acknowledge, is much easier to do when you live alone and can make completely independent decisions about what and when to eat. At my heaviest, I suppose I might have been close to 245. In going this route, I notice that I've hit plateaus at about 20 lb. intervals. For the last month, I've been stuck at 204-206, tantalizingly close to 203 once, but I blame this on my inability to resist the cookies that have piled up around the secretaries' desks. Food I can say no to. Cookies, which are not food but rather little morsels of instant pleasure stimuli, are a different matter altogether.

Reaching 200 by the end of the year was kind of an unofficial target. Though I don't expect to hit that now, I'm still looking forward to the milestone. I don't plan to do anything special about that, except quietly acknowledge to myself that I met a goal, albeit a late one. From there, I sort of think that it may be possible to get down to 185 in two year's time, and maybe I'll add some exercise into the equation.

I've shrunk out of most of my kilts, and all but two or three of my suits hang on me like sacks. I've taken to wearing waistcoats with my suits to fill out the jackets and to cover up all the bunching of the trousers at the waist, but it's getting harder to disguise the big gap around my neck at the collar. I feel like a schlub, and comfort myself by going for some retail therapy every couple of weeks to buy one or two pieces of something that fits - this week it was two pair of size 36 jeans, a size last seen for about a month back in 2003 when I was unemployed that summer after coming down from another high of 240 or so.

For me, and for many men, the battle against weight is lifelong, and I'm acutely aware of the risk of ballooning back up again (so, no, I'm not selling my kilts!). That said, I absolutely believe we need to love our bodies no matter what shape they are in, for it is a curse to loathe the vessel from which we have no escape. But loving our bodies sometimes means requiring it to do stuff it would rather not do. Successful compliance depends on negotiating a plan that both the body and the spirit can agree on.

Regards,
Rex, who has never, ever, discussed his weight in such detail in public before.