As you will come to realize, when it comes to weight loss, I am a firm believe in the cutting of caloric intake: it doesn’t matter whether you eat 1,600 calories of sugar cookies, bacon strips, frozen pizzas or energy bars; if you can do this while working out like a lunatic, you will lose weight. You have to be honest with yourself, though: if you eat a handful of nuts, you need to tally it it, otherwise the whole exercise is pointless.

There is one area, however, in which I am lax, and regarding which I felt little need to modify my behavior: drinking. I enjoy drinking. I enjoy a nice glass of beer – after all, I live in Portland, so it would be a travesty if I didn’t. I like a good martini – gin, only, of course; please don’t insult me by offering me anything else (I’ll leave the brand to your discretion.) I find drinking quite beneficial in social situations: it aids in the mingling process; it can convert two left feet into an adequate pair; it helps dampen the noise of a particularly loud concert or party; and it can even turn the most timid of us into a Streisand or Stewart at the local karaoke bar (whether this is a good thing is a subject for another discussion.) I will even go so far as to say that I occasionally enjoy getting – hmm, how do I put this – shitfaced, when it strikes my fancy, I have nothing to do the next day, and I’m out with a group of friends.

Now, there are some amongst you who are probably shaking your heads, whispering, “I think he has a problem.” I do have a problem: the fact that I’m writing this without a cup of coffee next to me is a problem. That I have a splitting headache, brought about by this very activity, is a problem. But moreover, my biggest problem – aside from the minor but irreparable damage such an activity causes my liver – is this: how can my enjoyment of alcohol coexist with both my generally obsessive approach to weight loss, and my specific stance against calories? Alcohol, and most alcoholic beverages, are not exactly light in the calorie department.

Simple. I have created a wholly unscientific, somewhat arbitrary system that has obviously served me well.

1. If you enjoy going out and getting loaded on weekends, then you must refrain from any mid-week, lackadaisical drinking, or otherwise its calories must be stringently counted, like anything else. I used to enjoy a beer every couple of days, just as a way to unwind. Now, I try to steer clear of that activity. If you’re going to do it – make it count.