I hang around people fatter than me.

That's more (see also 11/11/09, "Garfield Was Right.") sage advice from the comic strip cat. Or, if you prefer Rodney Dangerfield, take Thornton Melon's advice from the movie Back to School.

"Lou, do I look fat?"
"You could lose a few pounds."
"I need to get bigger actors."

Later this week is my 20-year high school reunion, and I'm not going. I went to my 10-year reunion, and I was glad to see other men also losing their hair or starting to go gray early (but not both like me, alas!). I couldn't work up any enthusiasm to go to this reunion, though -- even if I could walk around and see how much weight everyone else has put on.

The only reason I could think of for attending would be to flaunt that, as of last Friday's official weigh-in, I am at 192 pounds, just three pounds heavier than my high school weight. Then, when you consider the muscle mass I've put on, I must be thinner than I was 20 years ago.

If I haven't mentioned it before, I carry my weight differently than most men. Guys typically develop bellies that hang over their belts. I, however, carry my weight lower: around my hips (a polite way of saying my belly is lower and I have a huge rear end). I noticed, while sitting on the sofa last night, that the fat I do carry above my waist is almost gone, but lower down isn't disappearing as fast. (I look totally awesome lying on my back.)

Yeah, looking down on my rotund, former classmates and thinking, "You wish you could have some of this," isn't a good enough reason to go to the reunion.