When you come to examine into the actuating motives for any line of
human endeavor you will find that vanity figures about ninety per cent,
directly or indirectly, in the assay. The personal equation is the
ruling equation. Women want to be thinner because they will look
better--and so do men. Likewise, women want to be plumper because they
will look better--and so do men. This holds up to forty years. After
that it doesn't make much difference whether either men or women look
any better than they have been looking, so far as the great end and aim
of all life is concerned. Consequently fat men and fat women after
forty want to be thinner for reasons of health and comfort, or quit and
resign themselves to their further years of obesity.

Now I am over forty. Hence my experiments in reduction may be taken at
this time as grounded on a desire for comfort--not that I did not make
many campaigns against my fat before I was forty. I fought it now and
then, but always retreated before I won a victory. This time, instead
of skirmishing valiantly for a space and then being ignominiously and
fatly routed by the powerful forces of food and drink, I hung stolidly
to the line of my original attack, harassed the enemy by a constant and
deadly fire--and one morning discovered I had the foe on the run.

It always makes me laugh to hear people talk about losing
flesh--unless, of course, the decrease in weight is due to illness. No
healthy person, predisposed to fat, ever lost any flesh. If that
person gets rid of any weight, or girth, or fat, it isn't lost--it is
fought off, beaten off. The victim struggles with it, goes to the mat
with it, and does not debonairly drop it. He eliminates it with stern
effort and much travail of the spirit. It is a job of work, a grueling
combat to the finish, a task that appalls and usually repels.