It's 2015 and I'm the oldest and fattest I've ever been.
Oldest, for all the usual reasons. Fattest, because when I turned 34 my body switched to one of those new low-flow metabolisms.
Which is completely unfair because I was never trained in the art of food avoidance for the sake of figure retention. Up to this point, I thought that people for whom "a moment on the lips, forever on the hips" was more than an idle threat just had something broken.
When my friend, Guy, suggested I try a low-carb diet I took to it with the gusto of a self-flagellating penitent. Out went the cereals, the breads, and, Lor' have mercy! every divine incarnation of the potato. I took up my cross, and determined to put to death every trans fat transgression.
When I was younger I used to smoke. Then I chose not to smoke any more. This feels like that.
I had no idea how tight a grip fast food had on my brain. As I write this my head is swimming in a reservoir of deep-fried images, drenched in canola-soaked memories, befuddled by the yearning that wracks the mind, body and soul of a rehabilitating junkie.
Over the past 3 weeks i've not only seen the needle on the bathroom scale fall to the tune of 10 metric kilograms, i've also noticed an increase - an increase in my capacity to resist all manner of temptations. First it was the neon lights of the kebab shop that slowly began to lose their lustrous lure, but it's gone beyond that - it feels like I'm growing in my capacity to resist other temptations as well.
Is this a thing? Can resisting hot chips help a man resist hot chicks? (Apologies.)
I feel like i've heard something like this before, so I search around and find the Apostle Paul and his stirring words to the Corinthian church:
It seems that when it comes to temptations, resistance begets resistance. Besting the carnal call of base desires seems to enable us to overcome greater adversaries. I'm not sure I can keep up this low-carb-lark forever, but I've learned a valuable lesson in my quest for a lifetime of obedience.