The story begins as
follows:
Many years ago I went
down forty pounds.
From that moment on I
decided to watch my caloric intake carefully and I took up a moderate but
constant exercise program. Time went by and I was feeling fabulous, my state
of mind was good and my perception of life was very positive.
One day I suddenly
decided to give myself "a permission". That permission was followed by
another one and another one and just when I was beginning to loose control of
my weight, I went on vacation with the intention of spending a week of
relaxation.
By that time I had gone
back to my old habit of eating between meals and I ate everything in sight. It
didn't matter whether it was potato chips, peanuts, chocolates, absolutely
everything that was put before me was good.
My true potential had
not reached its maximum and Saturday night arrived and I would have supper
with an old friend and his wife in a luxurious restaurant.
While I devoured
several dishes as perspired due to the speed of eating, my friend turned to me
and said "you know, you seem to be a little healthier than the last time
I saw you". I suspected that his comment had to do with the fact that I
had finished all the bread on the table and was beginning to spread butter on
my fingers in order to better taste my fingerprints.
And precise at that
moment my pride was hurt and I said "I don't know what happened but
lately I've been very hungry and I'm eating like an elephant". My
friend's wife looked at him and both smiled faintly and let out a loud laugh.
Just then something
happened. I can still see what I have told you so far and I decided to start a
war against food and yet I told my friend and his wife that I was going to
have a dessert, they both looked at each other and before their unbelieving
and scared faces they watch me consume an enormous slice of apple cake with
whipped cream. I had the feeling that even the waiter was making fun of me.
And my friend asked "are you going to eat all of that?"
In my mind lurked a
question: Why shouldn't I eat it? What difference could a few more calories
make?
I am now near the end
of my story. By this time everyone in the restaurant was glued looking at me.
I had done it! I had finished the last crumb of this enormous slice of cake
and everyone present started to applaud.
I will never forget the
following morning, it was Sunday and I wakened with a oppressive sensation in
my chest, I was frightened and called the hotel doctor who decided to
hospitalize me immediately and ordered an electrocardiogram, That Sunday was
eternal but luck was on my side and it turned out that the pain in my chest
was actually a stomach congestion.
I tried to relax and go
to sleep, which was impossible. I realized at that moment that I was between
either continuing to live or continuing to eat.
It was a difficult
decision to make but it took only a look at an old photograph to do it. In
that photo I was obese as a result of a great diet experiment which I put
myself on, I used to eat at the same rate of the universe expansion.
Having survived that
gluttony, I centered myself and had to realize that my innocuous permissions
had brought me to this state. To eat to forget and to gratify myself had once
more become a form of life for me.
The following day I was
born again and decided that self discipline had to become my permanent ally.
And with the help and direction of the doctor and the enormous stimulus of my
past clothing and my mirror I would again be my self, but I ask myself this
question: What if that pain in my chest had not been a food congestion? Would
I be here now?
END OF TRUE STORY
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