Eighteen years—wasted. Eighteen years of calorie- and fat-unit-based arithmetic. Eighteen years of buying long shirts and sweaters and leaving the room backwards in intimate situations to hide my bottom. Millions of cheesecakes and tiramisus, tens of millions of Emmenthal slices left uneaten. Eighteen years of struggle, sacrifice and endeavor—for what? Eighteen years and the result is “tired and flat.” I feel like a scientist who discovers that his life’s work has been a total mistake.
