In the fine tradition of people who have given up smoking, I gained weight whenever I stopped. In order to substitute something for the cigarettes I craved, I chewed gum at the rate of about three packages a day (which, after all, added only 60 calories) and kept some gumdrops at my desk (but they're only 30
calories each). And as a substitute activity during mo­ments at the dinner table that might otherwise have been occupied by tapping a cigarette from the pack, lighting it, puffing it, flicking ashes from it, putting it in and taking it from the ashtray, and finally stubbing it out, I ate a little more bread than usual at lunch and dinner. (But those extra rolls and slices of toast and even the larger-than-usual desserts didn't add more than 300 extra calories daily.)

HOW THOSE CALORIES ADD UP!

However, since it takes only 3,600 extra calories (whether in a day, a week or a year) to add one extra pound of fat, I gained. I gained, to be precise, at the rate of about two pounds a week. Soon the tailor had to open seams and shift buttons . . . and then when even my "expanded" wardrobe became uncomfortably tight, I simply started smoking again. "Anyone knows," I explained to myself in justification, "that it's worse for a man in his fifties to be heavy than it is for him to smoke."