Deflated

I was down at Tremper High School again today, rehearsing with a couple of my sister-in-law’s choirs.  (I’m playing piano for their Christmas concert next week.)  As always, it was exciting to see Polly in action because she does such good work, so efficiently- and makes it fun.    (My favorite moment was when she chided one of the groups for getting overly excited and oversinging.   “Careful,” she said – “it seems like you’re going into Auto Pilot Super Blast.”)

But I’m laughing hardest about something that a couple of the girls said to each other – and which was overheard by student teacher Kristen Barnes – who relayed it to Polly – who in turn told my wife – who told me.   It turns out that two of the young women in one of the choirs had noted my weight loss, and especially the cardigan sweater that was hanging on me  like a sheet. (It’s an XXL, but it’s the only black cardigan I own.)   One of them turned to the other and said. . .

I found myself filling in the blank with “he really looks great”

or  “he looks twenty years younger”

or maybe even  “wow, he’s hot.”  (Yeah, right-  like a high school kid would say that about a 48-year-old piano player.)

No,  what the one young lady actually said to her friend is:

“It’s like he’s Deflated!”

Yup.  In more ways than one.