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Lose 40 Pounds in 80 Days

I got fat because my name's "Elmer."

I've read a lot about why us fatties get fat. Real scientific stuff. Some doctors say the real reason is due to boredom. We eat to "have something to do."

Other diet experts say insecurity in life prompts us to overindulge. They claim this is inherent in us from babyhood, when we rushed to our mother's breast at the first sign of fright.

Personally, I think a person's name has something to do with fat.

You just know that a fellow with the fortunate name of Richard feels inwardly that he is a lion-hearted cuss, so he struts around burning up energy. Bill is a real he-man's name, and living up to it keeps him slender,

Charlie is a good solid name. So is John.

But Elmer!

Gosh, it's always associated with some comic character. A country rube. A hillbilly. A bull who is married to Elsie!

So us "Elmers" have developed inferiority complexes. We are shy fellows. We drown our shame in tons of food.

I was going to say, "Look at any Elmer you can think of," but the only ones I can think of off-hand are Elmer Davis the commentator, and Elmer Rice, the playwright, and neither of them is fat. They don't even have to try to lose weight.

Well, anyway, I'm entitled to my theories!

Of course, there are some people who think I got fat because I ate too much food, and that I ate too much food simply because it tasted so good.


THE BOOM GOT US "ELMERS"


I'm like a million other fat boys born of the Boom.

Before the Lavish Eighties, dieting and losing weight was always easy for me. I was an expert at it. Why, I used to practice how to lose weight three or four times a year!

After every lazy vacation; after every gall bladder attack; after every insurance rejection; before each Thanksgiving dinner, I dieted.


Then the Boom sneaked up on me.

Life was gay, parties numerous, food and liquids most generously offered in the Feverish Forties, with their sales promotional orgies and Navy "E" award banquets by pleased possessors.

Parties went on constantly in everybody's home, from welder to advertising manager; in every hotel and motel room, from the palatial Palmer House to the Magnolia Manor Motor Court.

Prosperity got me. I fell victim to calories. Ominous calories. Insidious calories.

Tasty calories!


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