After cleaning the house and then showering about five pounds of lint, dust and hair off my sweaty body, I grabbed a pair of shorts from my closet, stepped into them and tried to button the waist. No joy. Even while sucking my gut in. The button didn’t come to within an inch of the buttonhole.

I grabbed a second pair of shorts from my closet, stepped into them and tried to button the waist. Still no joy. Granted, these were shorts that had been part of my wardrobe since the mid-90s, because until last summer they still fit. I’m sure I wore them last summer. Pretty sure. Maybe not.

The third pair of shorts fit me, yay, but they’re a weee bit tight around the waist.

I’ve finally crossed that line. I officially have a gut.