Do I look fat in this face?

So, when I came home in 1992 after a two-year mission to Argentina, I weighed in at a hefty 145 pounds. You'd think eating nothing but beef, I'd be a little larger, but that Atkins guy did get a few things right, may he rest in peace. Upon seeing my minimalist frame after having removed my suitcoat, my mother emphatically declared, "We're going to Sizzler!" Let me pause here to state the obvious: if you ever spend two years eating the most succulent South American cattle products known to man, Sizzler will leave you quite melancholy, even with the unlimited salad bar.

A few years later, I got married. 170 pounds. Even had a two-pack. Four-pack on Fast Sunday.

Four kids and ten years later, all the way up to 205. Even hit 215 at the doctor's office recently, but I credit that to heavy jeans, big shoes (size 13) and the fact that my wallet had lots of receipts from a recent business trip.

So, from 145 to 205. That's sixty pounds, or more than the weight of my external frame backpack on a recent Adirondack hiking trip. And I wonder why I can't play ball like I used to...