For my whole life my top weight has been 110. Because of muscle atrophy my arms and right leg look like toothpicks.

Childbirth increased the width of hips and stomach. For two golden pregnancies I had breasts. After Dan died I confided in a girlfriend my concern that my arms were becoming weaker. Pulling my drawers up or down was a chore. "What size do you wear?" she asked piercingly. "Five" I answered. "Dimwit! You are wearing the wrong size underpants." I super-sized to a size 8 and problem solved.

So now my arms are having trouble getting food to my mouth. Cereal splashes to my lap. Anything that can't be speared by a fork doesn't make it over the lips or to the gums. I use straws for everything but coffee with a straw is WRONG. "Sippy" cups seem doable but are too heavy to lift. King Gary put my plate on two books so I could shovel it directly in my maw. Brilliant concept but I lacked the requisite execution skills.

Maybe I should buy some size 10 under drawers.