I love this time of year at the gym, because suddenly people realize winter is not going to last forever, and all those pounds they packed on they've got to work doubletime to take them off.

I stick to my routine all winter so I don't have to scramble come spring.  But I'm all for packing on a little extra weight as insulation in the colder months. Heck, I don't mind a few extra pounds any time of the year. If you enjoy putting them on, and you wear it well, I say go for it. I'd much rather share a fatty feast with an unrepentant plus-size epicurean than suffer through a bland repast with a skinny, joyless dietary puritan.  I'm not afraid to eat, drink, and be merry.

The worst dinner dates by far are the ones who keep talking about their diet all through the meal. I dated a guy once who did that. I'd order without regard to calories—I never pay attention to any of that shite—and I'd have this rich, hearty meal in front of me and he'd order roughage.

About two bites in, he'd be looking at my plate longingly.  I'd hear his stomach growling.

"How's your diet?" I'd ask him between mouthfuls of animal fat.  "That salad looks positively yummy.  I just adore iceberg lettuce—are you gonna eat that olive?"

"No, you can have it," he'd say.  "How's yours?"

"Mmm-mm.  You have to try some."

"I'm on a diet," he'd protest weakly.

"Come on Salvatore, have some.  It's, like, two-thirds fat.  It's lardelicious."

"Well..."

"Go on."

"...Just a nibble."

And then, of course, within seconds he'd have inhaled half to three-quarters of my entrée.

That was what I used to call The Salvatore Diet.  I don't know if it worked for Salvatore, but it did wonders for my figure.

So for all of you out there looking to lose that winter weight.  Go out and find yourself a lover who's on a diet, and try the Salvatore method.  It works.  I guarantee it. 

Oh, and—I almost forgot—you're gonna want to get one of those Swiss bouncy balls, too, and do about a thousand crunches a day.  Details.