Signs of spring

With the advent of spring comes the yearning for a new silhouette. My family keeps checking, tilting their heads: I think he's lost a bit, don't you?

Ounces, they mean, not lbs.

Since hitting the big 9-0, certain things are taboo:
Weekly Sunday a.m. waffle
Gleanings from the taco pan
Pot full o'meatballs
Extra pancakes
Peanut butter bones
Etc.
Etc.
Etc.

Actually, I think I am a bit trimmer. Instead of two and a half hours of walks per day, more daylight means three plus hours. More playtimes. More romping.

While we're on the topic, what is it with those scales at the vet? I mean, you take in a breath, and two lbs. get added to your total. What's with that? Next time, I'm getting a mani and pedi ahead of time. Every ounce counts. Then, I'm exhaling the moment I step on that awful metal thing, pausing briefly, and I'm out of there. Ever notice, the longer you stay on, the more lbs it adds? It's crazy.

BTW, even though you know I love Dr. Schettino, the carrot thing did not go over big.