Does this make me look fat?

I actually had that question run through my mind today. After gaining 30 pounds of non-smoking sexy blubber the last 4 months I have found myself in a position I have never encountered. I am trying to lose weight. Yes that is correct. I have a weight problem for the first time in 49 years. Until now my major concern with weight was how much my steak weighed pre-cooking. The times they have a changed. Calories matter now. Gone are the nights of a half gallon of great divide Blue Bell ice cream disappearing under the relentless assault of my spoon. Gone are the days of the apple pie dessert. Not a slice. The pie. The whole pie.
My metabolism slowed once I quit smoking. I am a little more deliberate in all my movements except toward the refrigerator. Gazelle's envy my speed heading for food. My appetite has increased to a point that may not be healthy. If it moves slower than me, and can be covered with a condiment, it will be eaten. The smaller kids in the neighborhood have become a little quicker lately. I may have eaten my pillow during a dream about marshmallows. I may start eating the garnish on the side of the plate. Things are almost out of control.
All this extra eating and slower metabolism has led to one thing. A stressed wardrobe. The size I normally wear has been replaced by a size bigger and the phrase "relaxed fit" which is a Greek term translated "this should be a whole size bigger but we don't want to shattered your fat arsed fragile ego". Loosely translated of course. You get the point. When I tried on my regular pants this morning I think I heard "put us back on the hanger please" in a very strained voice. If you have ever tried to pack a suitcase for a trip and had to sit on it to close it you know how I feel getting dressed. It's not easy finding someone to sit on you at certain times of the day.
So now I am reduced to thinking about what I am wearing and how it looks. Most of what I am wearing looks like a duffel bag filled with pumpkins. My main concern now is to keep the wardrobe from splitting completely apart. Belching has become a critical tool in not popping a button or two off my shirts. Don't ask about the pants. Time to eat some carrots....

Till Next.........