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First, my tailor said I now had a “relaxed” girth. He was measuring me up for new trousers, and when I suggested he stick with the old measurements because I’d walk off the difference, he sniggered. And, at any rate, he processed the order providing a more comfortable fit around the waist, thus robbing me of the incentive of losing those inches to fit into my old clothes. I blame him for not reining in those love handles.
Earlier this week, out at a friend’s for dinner, an acquaintance sized me up critically and announced to the whole room — why?
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