"Leave your stuff. I'll guard it." Jeb grinned. "In case a rabbit comes along," he said, looking at the apple and the carrot.
Again that jet of irritation rose in Martin and subsided. "I'm training for the decathlon," he said, walking off.
When they were all together, Martin trying to chew slowly (as his diet book advised) and ignore the odors that wafted around the cafeteria, Otto said, "No kidding, Marty, you got guts. I couldn't go on a diet. I mean, I might just manage to climb on one, but I'd fall off the other side right away."
Martin swallowed. Right this minute he thought he'd give a year of his life for a big bag of French fries and a chocolate shake. "It ain't easy," he said glumly.
"Yeah, but you do it," Otto persisted. "Takes guts."
Martin, who had just about decided to chuck the darn diet, changed his mind again. He went regularly up and down on this seesaw and wondered if it was going to be like this for the rest of his life. Well, as the book said, the thing was to take it a day at a time and not look ahead. Any jerk could stay on a diet for one day. And then another day, and another, and so on. A day at a time till doomsday, he thought. Still, Otto's praise had heartened him. The book said that was how alcoholics got sober, just not taking a drink today. Or, in his case, French fries and a chocolate shake. And since it was always today...
-- The Explorer of Barkham Street by Mary Stolz