Where do fat belts go when they die? (They don't go to heaven where the angels fly)

I've owned this belt for about 10 years (maybe more).  It has been with me through every weight fluctuation of that time frame.  It has never failed me, until today.

I've finally gotten too small for this belt.  It has seen its last supporting role in my wardrobe.  This trusty belt went with me on every tour, through every job and TV show I worked, and held me up when my hands were full with life's responsibilities.  This belt is kind of like Jesus.

But, like Jesus, this belt has no purpose in my life, and I couldn't be more delighted.  I honestly never thought about what kind of significance "under-growing" it would have.  I just always wore it and occasionally found myself having to use a different notch (for better or worse).  The idea of being too small for it never really crossed my mind.

This weekend I went up to my family cabin in the mountains with my wife to celebrate her birthday.  I fully expected to come back 100 lbs heavier due to my lack of responsibility when I am deep in the woods with a fridge full of beer, but I did OK.  To my credit, though, I made "the best cake" my wife has ever had.  I had a piece.  It was pretty good but it tasted like dirty, dirty guilt.

Long story short, I strapped on my belt on Saturday morning and noticed it didn't really hug my hips at all.  Though I knew this day would come, I never really pictured when it would happen or how I would feel.  Part of me felt a little wistful knowing that my trusty, old, beat up belt would never hold my pants up again.  Most of me, on the other hand, felt pretty fucking satisfied.  While we were out, I bought a much smaller belt at the local mercantile.

And so begins a new era...