Several people have called, e-mailed or commented to me about this column within the past few weeks, and I thank everyone for their encouragement.

One gentleman called and asked me how I avoid eating sweets, and the only thing I had to offer him was that I try to pray whenever the temptation arises.

I recently read a booklet by Emmit Fox, called "The Golden Key."

The Key is, in short, that whenever a trouble arises, simply think about God rather than about the trouble. I try to use the key, but it is easier said than done.

As I wrote a few weeks ago, I am no expert, and I am just beginning my efforts at improving my health. Other people who have been more successful, like Zumba instructor Tabby Stem, would be a much better source for tips than I.

Stem, who was featured on the front page of yesterday's Times-Gazette, has lost 85 pounds in the past three years, so she has had far more experience and success than I have.

One thing I am an expert at is making excuses.

Like I did the other day.

We celebrate our birthdays with an office lunch every two months, and mine was included in Tuesday's celebration for July and August.

We had lasagna, cookies, cupcakes and sweet tea. Do you think I used my birthday as an excuse to gorge on sweets? Of course I did. As I said, I'm an expert at making excuses. In fact, I didn't even think about Fox's Golden Key.

And now, as I write this, reporter Sadie Fowler walks in with three pizzas that were bought with the money I gave her to buy low calorie sandwiches. Sometimes it seems like the world is conspiring against me, especially when my closest associates plot my demise.

Fowler is, by the way, the same person who yesterday challenged me to participate in Zumba. She actually said, "I DARE you!" Good thing she didn't double dog dare me, or I might have wound up with my tongue frozen to an exercise mat.

I must admit, I'm not ready for Zumba -- yet. My expert excuse??? My foot hurts. More about that on another day.

Meanwhile, another e-mailer praised me for admitting that I have face challenges in losing weight. I guess my reasoning behind my honesty is that I don't care too much what other people think.

Notice I included the phrase "too much." I would be lying if I said I didn't care what people think about me. I just don't care too much. If I did, I would be far too sensitive to call myself a "fat guy." I first learned this concept from psychologist/writer M. Scott Peck in his book "Golf and the Spirit," in which he says don't worry too much about your score on the golf course.

I want people to like me, or at least to respect me, but I am not seeking to improve my health or my weight because of the pressures of society or because I am overly concerned about what others think. It's just something I want to do for myself. My goal is to improve my life for my own benefit. If I become more aesthetically pleasing to others, that is just a fringe benefit.

This week has been a particularly difficult week for me, and it started with the ice cream I admitted to buying last week. It continued with the lasagna, and with a trip to the Chinese buffet, culminating with the pizza I am now digesting.

Also -- get ready for expert excuse No. 2 -- it has been a busy week at work, especially with city editor John Carney gone on a mission trip. Thank God he's back today! It has been a hectic week, and I have allowed my busy schedule to interfere with my new and improved, healthier lifestyle. I know any physical laborers reading this are now groaning, but desk jobs can be mentally exhausting.

In short, I have slipped back into my old habits quickly. I weighed in at 239 this week, up one pound from my last reading a week ago.

So, even if I'm not ready for Zumba, I at least need to get back to the gym. I have not visited the gym at all this week, though I have walked in the neighborhood several miles, and have done several sets of abdominal crunches on my living room floor.

I originally wrote that I would use this column as a type of accountability, so today I restate my goal to continue to improve. I simply have to persevere despite recent setbacks. I may be down, but I'm far from out.

Also, I have been using my weight as the main determinate of whether I have been making progress, but it has become clear to me that I have to begin using a new tool: A tape measure.

It's been called to my attention that muscle weighs more than fat, so it's possible to become more trim without losing weight.

I'll find out more about this and we'll start talking inches as well as pounds next week.

-- John Philleo is editor of the Times-Gazette. He can be reached at (931) 684-1200, ext. 218, or by e-mail at editor@t-g.com.