Fat boy, Fat boy

I'm an American.  I've gained weight.
But I've been working at getting rid of it.  Ms Donna is a great cook and she always tries to keep the meals healthy.  We don't eat red meat or pork and sometimes even have meatless meals.  If it wasn't for the beer we'd probably be much skinnier than we really are. 
I exercise.  Do that pretty well too.  Just haven't learned how to diet.  I walk a lot.  Since my job makes me live at a desk I like to get up and walk around the building every day.  Takes about a half hour to walk around ten times.  Used to do it twice a day but it hurts my knees. 
Then I swim quite a bit at the Y. 

I like to think it works.  I look at myself in the mirror and I don't lie.  I see a bit of a gut.  But then I feel like I'm working on it.  If I take a deep breath while looking in the mirror I almost look OK.  I've even told the pretty young girl at the desk in the Y, "Do you know how important you are to me?"
"Uh, no.  How important am I to you?"
"I hold my stomach in every time I come in here".

So anyway, I've thought I'm doing fine.  I thought, when we met Joyce and Stan and Jessica for the first time in almost two years for dinner, well I would really impress them with my new look.  You know how people look so much different when you haven't seen them in a while. It's really clear how much they've changed.  Like they get older.  Or just different. 

Well I've been working on my figure to such an extent that I knew I was really going to impress them. 

So when Stan stood up to shake my hand and give me a quick guy-hug to say goodbye, he did notice how I had changed.  He looked at my gut and poked me in the belly and said "Gettin a gut on you there right Bob?"

I'm eating salad for dinner tonight.