I’ve been on a strict eat-almost-nothing diet for two or three months. I began the regimen by accepting the idea that everything I used to love (breads, pastas, sandwiches of all kinds, hamburgers, chicken salad, gelato, pizza, shrimp fried rice, dumplings, spicy hot dogs, richly sauced Chinese food, deviled eggs, all kinds of potatoes including baked, mashed and scalloped, steak, cupcakes, ice cream and eggs over, bacon/sausage and hash browns for breakfast) was the enemy. Now I’ve gone so deep into that foxhole that I don’t even want to look at that stuff any more, and all I want to eat are fruit and vegetables and yogurt and salads. And an occasional plate of salmon or chicken.

And it’s a good thing. Now I actually feel a bit poisoned if I fall off the wagon and eat something “bad.” The only indulgences are sugarless ice pops and non-alcoholic beer and the occasional chocolate bar and whipped cream on the coffee. Okay, if someone puts a nice tasty steak or a really delicious plate of seafood in front of me I’ll eat it, but that’s a very rare thing. My son Dylan tells me that if I’m serious about dropping pounds I need to manage a 500 calorie deficit per day. Jesus God. But I honestly feel good about abandoning all alcohol. 13 months and counting. For much of my adult life I drank and smoked occasionally (i.e., whenever I was in Europe) and ate mostly fattening food. Now I’m in another realm and I like it better.