Last year, after I broke my finger, I quit playing basketball for about six months. The result was that I gained weight. Even when I started playing again, the weight stayed with me. I began to realize the extra twenty-five pounds I was carrying was going to eat into my life expectancy, so I decided to lose weight. I cut back on my intake of sugar and reduced the amount of food I ate, in general.
I’m happy to report that I have lost weight. I regret to inform you, however, that the twenty-five pounds I have lost so far were only fifteen. I went from 205 to 180 in just a matter of a month or six weeks. At least, I thought I did. When I weighed anywhere other than home, I was 190 pounds. Jimbo’s girlfriend cleared up the mystery last weekend when she pointed out to me that I was reading our scale wrong. Despite the fact that the line on the dial points at a large 180, the line actually is the increment for 190.
So I take back what I told many of you about my losing twenty-five pounds. I’m hoping this is just a premature statement and I will be able to start saying it again in another month or so. Thank you to all of you who noticed my stomach is not as huge as it was six weeks ago. It’s nice to look down at my stomach and to be able to see something protruding from my anatomy below my stomach again—my feet.
In the meantime, I don’t foresee Jimbo’s girlfriend changing her hairstyle to look like Myrna Loy, nor do I envision us getting a dog named Asta.
For the time being, however, I’m the not-as-fat man, here in Jimbo’s world.
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