It's funny, too; for a heavy guy like myself to even consider strip poker, I would have had to be in some sort of heavily inebriated state. Yet, I could have had a thousand gin and tonics and still been yanked back to clarity when faced with such a decision. Perhaps I should spell out the ramifications of this choice: do I pull off my shirt, and expose my gut, which was more like an innertube than a spare tire? Or do I remove the pants, and chill in the briefs I wore because boxers were so goddamn uncomfortable and awkward?

I actually chose a third option. I slinked off, quitting the game and finding somewhere to lay my head - which actually turned out to be my bed, since this entire ludicrous adventure took place at our home. No one seemed to mind that I was quitting without honoring my final bet; perhaps they knew that I was ashamed or uncomfortable (although I imagine it's probably more likely that I just wasn't the object of everyone's attention - which was fine by me.)

Next morning, most of the remnants of the previous night's activities were expunged: floors were swept, cards put away, glasses (and, perhaps, vomit) were cleaned. But the game of strip poker weighed heavily on my mind, and by the end of the day I had come to a fundamental realization: although at that time I had probably lost around 100 pounds since my heaviest point in high school, it wasn't enough. I still wasn't happy with myself. I exercised frequently, but had stalled on my progress. I needed to do something. I'm going to show you what I did.

In the coming weeks and months, if you'd like, you'll learn what it's like to weigh 340 pounds when you're 16, 260 when you're 20, 295 when you're 23, 240 when you're 25, and, as of December 27th, 2005, 177 when you're 26. I've done it without drastically altering my diet, or getting stomach stapling surgery - although, if you have a fear of exercise you should probably stop reading right now. It isn't easy, but it can be done. Let's talk about how.