Watson's Waistline: Watson finds success in failure

When I began my quest to lose weight earlier this semester, I had lofty goals in mind. I was going to lose 40 pounds, get into serious shape, cure cancer and bring peace to the Middle East. Or something like that.

Well, as the semester winds down, I find myself right back at the beginning, leaving the scale at the same eye-poppingly large number that I originally stepped on it with. Did you feel the floor rumbling a few minutes ago? That was probably me walking by your building.

Just kidding. I was actually all the way across the street.

Yet, despite a glaring lack of results, I don't consider this experiment a failure. At the outset, I did exceedingly well on my diet, and lost 15 pounds relatively quickly. Had I stuck with it, I most certainly would have reached my goal and been another heroic success story to add to all the "before and after" stars of commercials for Slim-Fast, Subway and, of course, the Shake Weight.

But, I would have been doing it for the wrong reasons. I thought that I needed to lose weight to make me feel better about myself; that I would be a better person if I weighed 20 pounds less.

That's simply not true. If I've learned anything through this, it's that you're always you, and it doesn't matter if you weigh 90 pounds or 400; if you don't like who you are as a person, you're never going to be happy.

So I ditched counting carbs in favor of interacting more with the people I love, and taking time to appreciate their company. Yeah, we would eat a pizza every now and then, but I'll trade some empty calories for a few hours of quality time.

Besides, sometimes it just feels good to have a burger, drink a beer, kick back, relax and not think about what the consequences of my dietary choices are. The monotony of salad, salad and more salad really started to wear on me and made my life feel colorless, with no variety.

I still want to lose weight. I'll be healthier in the long run, and it should mean I have more time for the life experiences I really care about. But, as I've learned, I can't let my weight define me. I'm not Jared, the 280 pound human, I'm just Jared, and I'm OK with that.