Jess came at me with a tape measure the other day. I didn't know what she was up to, she just threw it around my belly. Naturally, I moved away, stepping over the tape like it was the finish line and I was the last runner.
"No, Mosby, come here, I need to measure your waist!"
What for? New pants? Come on, who needs to know.
"Mosby, sit still! I'm sure you're thinner! Let me prove it!"
I stepped over the tape, once again, refusing to look, refusing to acknowledge my girth.
"Mosby, so help me... Good boy!"
She tightened the tape. She did it again. She measured a third time. Lord, woman, don't keep a cat in suspense like this!
"Mosby! Oh, Mosby! You lost an whole inch off your waist! You're waist is only 26 inches!"
Then she gave me crunchies. Which I ate as though they were the last ones on the planet.
So, congratulate me, kids! I'm down an inch!