By John Sheirer
He always thought that if he could just drop those last few pounds of belly fat, then he’d finally be happy. He often skipped desserts, never took second helpings, sprinted the last leg of every jog.
Still, the fat clung for decades. He took the stairs two at a time and sucked in his gut for photos.
Then one day, without explanation, he noticed the fat had started to melt away.
A year after his diagnosis, as his wife helped lift his shrinking frame from the bed to the wheelchair each morning, he longed to have those few pounds back.