My diminished girth, in tailor phraseology, was hardly

Hear the words of William Banting, a man who struggled long with the weight of his body and the burden of his health, who declared: “My diminished girth, in tailor phraseology, was hardly conceivable even by my own friends, or my respected medical adviser, until I put on my former clothing, over what I now wear, which is a thoroughly convincing proof of the remarkable change.” This declaration, clothed in modest humor, is not merely about a man’s waistline, but about the triumph of discipline, perseverance, and transformation.

The meaning is clear, yet profound. Banting speaks of his diminished girth, a victory over the flesh that once weighed him down, both in body and in spirit. He tells us that his transformation was so great that even his closest companions and his medical adviser could scarcely believe it until he offered them proof: his old clothes hanging like empty sails upon his new form. The image is powerful: garments once filled to their seams now loose, symbols of the triumph of will over habit, of knowledge over ignorance.

The origin of this moment lies in Banting’s personal struggle. In the 19th century, he was plagued by obesity, a condition little understood in his time and often treated with futility. He sought advice, he tried remedies, but none availed him. At last, under the guidance of his physician, he abandoned the sugars and starches that swelled his body, embracing a new regimen. To his amazement, the pounds fell away, and he regained strength, mobility, and vigor. So remarkable was his change that he recorded his journey in his pamphlet, Letter on Corpulence, which became a cornerstone in the history of diet and health.

His testimony echoes through the ages, for it was not only the tale of one man’s slimming but the dawn of a movement. Banting’s words gave birth to the very term “banting”, used for decades as a synonym for dieting. His story is a reminder that sometimes the simplest changes, guided by wisdom, can achieve what medicine and effort alone had long failed to deliver. He stood as proof that transformation is possible, and that evidence, not mere claim, convinces the world of one’s change.

Consider how many in history have borne similar struggles of proof. When Benjamin Franklin sought to prove that lightning and electricity were one, no words or theories sufficed until his kite experiment revealed truth with undeniable clarity. So too, Banting’s transformation was undeniable when he wrapped himself in his old clothes. The lesson is eternal: in a skeptical world, transformation must be shown, not only told. Proof resides not in words, but in living evidence.

The lesson, child of tomorrow, is this: let your change be visible. Do not seek only to tell others of your victories—live them, embody them, wear them as garments that no one can deny. If you strive for health, let your vigor be your testimony. If you strive for wisdom, let your actions reveal it more than your speech. Respect the journey of change, for only by walking it fully will the world believe what you have become.

To live by this wisdom, embrace both humility and discipline. Begin by valuing the blessings of the body, for it is the vessel through which your spirit journeys. Do not despise small beginnings, for Banting himself began with simple changes that grew into mighty results. And when your transformation comes, do not boast idly—let your life, like his loose garments, be the convincing proof.

Thus, the words of William Banting endure: a man once bound by excess, freed by discipline, and remembered for the testimony of his shrinking frame. May his story teach you that change is possible, that proof lies in action, and that the greatest evidence of transformation is not in speech but in the life you live before others.