A year ago last summer I went up into the mountains, where I usually go
for my fun. I had noticed a shortness of breath and a wheeziness in
previous summers, and had felt my heart pounding pretty hard; but that
summer I noticed these things acutely. I couldn't get any air to
breathe. My heart pounded like a pneumatic riveter. Any little
exercise tired me; and when in the lowlands in hot weather I was the
perspiring marvel and the most uncomfortable as well as the sloppiest
person you ever saw. It was fierce!

I was doing a good deal of walking in those days--had to burn up the
fuel I was taking into my body. Also, I noticed it was mighty hard to
keep awake after dinner unless I got out into the air and kept moving.
I felt well enough and the doctors said I was organically all right. I
kept informed on those points--but I was fat! Also, though I lied to
myself, I knew I was getting fatter.

CHAPTER III

FACING THE TISSUE

On New Year's Day, 1911, I weighed myself. I don't know why, for I
hadn't been on a scale for two or three years. I set the weight at two
hundred and thirty-five and it bounded up like a rubber ball; so I shoved
it along to two hundred and forty and it still stayed up in the air.
When I got a balance I found I weighed two hundred and forty-seven
pounds. I was amazed! Also, I was scared; for it instantly occurred to
me that if I had gone up to two hundred and forty-seven in two or three
years from two hundred and thirty-five I should keep on going up if my
manner of living didn't change--and that presently I should weigh three
hundred!