No skinny kings!

Lawrence Toppman

"I lived like a king." But what do people mean when they say that? Frequently, they've stuffed themselves, regardless of expense or consequences. When we see paintings of the kings of old, they all look like prime candidates for gout, clogged arteries and adult-onset diabetes.

Well, I went to Spoleto Festival USA and lived like a king over the long holiday weekend: coconut cake at midnight, glasses of coffee sweetened with Bailey's Irish cream just before bed, eggs from my queen's plate (err....my wife's) after I'd cleaned my own. Exercise? Pah! A six-block amble in the 90-degree heat and humidity of Charleston was a marathon.

And I have put back two and a half pounds. The squeaking of my treadmill this morning sounded like the gentle titter of an old friend who couldn't help saying, "I told you so."

Perhaps I thought I could have one breakout period without cost, but I was wrong: Slow losses can be confounded by quick gains. So I'm going to redouble my watchfulness and start living like a commoner again. Uneasy lies the belly that wears the crown.