The first time that I climbed above my ideal weight was during my sophomore year at Ball State. That was the year I discovered drinking beer. Lots and lots of beer. I began sleeping more and exercising less. The trade-off seemed a good one at the time, although later, lots and lots of beer caused me more difficulty than some paunch around the middle.

In high school (when I weighed 165), I could eat four quarter pounders with all the trimmings. My friend GW could eat eight (and he weighed 145). I held him in reverent awe because of his ability to put it away. Now, the thought of quarter pounder eating contests makes me sick. I would rather eat brown rice.

Two comical friends of mine had a weight-gaining contest at Ball State. They weighed about 200 pounds each. The first to 300 pounds would be declared the winner. They began eating super high calorie diets. They would plot their classes out in order to burn the least calories possible. And lots and lots of beer. When they reached 270 they decided to call the contest off. Their laziness had become exhausting. Incidentally, one of the contestants (Ken Norris) began dating his future wife while he was gaining girth. She must have admired his stick-tuitive-ness to sloth.

These days, I eat brown rice, abstain from alcohol and exercise often. Yet the girth remains. Perhaps girth is my plight. Perhaps sumo wrestling is in my future.