Doubtful

Somebody said to me today, "Normally this isn't a question I would ask a man, but have you lost weight? Your face looks thinner."

"No," I said, "but thank you."

I may have spoken too soon. I don't know. I haven't weighed myself for two weeks or so, and when I did I was just barely on the wrong side of 200 pounds. I'm a free range, beef fed, meat sack stuffed full of Jello, to misquote the Pegacorn song that recently won me an anthem writing contest.

Since discovering that I was rapidly nearing gravitational significance I've been to the Pork Off where even the dessert had bacon in it, and then to Iowa in search of marriage blessings and additional gut fat. I know I got one, and I have to assume I got the other as well. My meals there included bacon, at least two cokes a day, steak, mashed potatoes, bacon, potato pancakes, french toast, bacon, deep dish pizza, chicken Parmesan, a beef thing which I had ordering thinking it was some sort of fancy hot dog, airport pizza, and finally a Burger King meal. If my face is any thinner it's because it is trying to get stretch itself farther away from my gut for fear of being consumed.

I'll have to weigh my face in the morning after my billowing waves of tummy have a chance to even out in bed.