lts are what we are looking for. The end justifies the means. I
didn't figure out a diet. I had a dozen of them at home that had cost me
all the way from two dollars to two hundred and fifty dollars each. I
didn't buy a system of exercise. I read no books and consulted no
doctors. What I did was this: I cut down the amount of food I ate sixty
per cent and I cut out alcohol altogether! I carried out my argument to
its logical conclusion so far as it concerned myself. I didn't give a
hoot whether it would help or hurt or concern any other person in the
world. It was my body I was experimenting on, and I did what I
dad-blamed pleased and asked no advice--nor took any.

Instead of a hot-bread--I have the greatest hot-bread artist in the world
at my house, bar none!--waffle, sausage, kidney-stew, lamb-chop,
fried-egg and so forth sort of breakfast, I cut that meal down to some
fruit, a couple of pieces of dry, hard toast, two boiled eggs and coffee.
I cut out the luncheon altogether. No more luncheon for me! I cut down
my dinners to about forty per cent of what I had been eating. I
diminished the quantity, but not the variety. I ate everything that came
along, but I didn't eat so much or half so much. Instead of two slices
of roast beef, for example, I ate only one small slice. Instead of two
baked or browned potatoes, I ate only half of one. Instead of three or
four slices of bread, I ate only one. I didn't deprive myself of a
single thing I liked, but I cut the quantity away down. And I quit
drinking alcohol absolutely.

What happened? This is what happened: Eating food is just as much a
habit as breathing or any other physical function. I had got myself into
the habit of eating large quantities of food. Also, I had accustomed my
system to certain amounts of alcohol. I was organized on that
basis--fatly and flabbily organized, to be sure, but organized just the
same. Now, then, when I arbitrarily cut down the amount of food and
drink for which my system was organized that entire system rose up in
active revolt and yelled for what it had been accustomed to get. There
wasn't a minute for more than three months when I wasn't hungry, actually
hungry for food; when the sight of food did not excite me and when I did
not have a physical longing and appetite for food; when my stomach did
not seem to demand it and my palate howl for it. It was different with
the drinking. I got over that desire rather prom