When you're a chubby, everything in one form or another is a bit of a tight fit. Putting things on, taking them off, getting into places and then getting out again - none of them are as simple as placing a hand seamlessly into a glove.
Clearly they aren't showstoppers like having a major physical disability, but they add up to making moderate discomfort a feature of daily life.
Then throw in a 3 year old and a glamorous girlfriend, who both come with their caravans of various specialised accoutrements, and things are very much a tight squeeze. Particularly in the bathroom.
That's the hope. Although it's day forty one now, perhaps by day two hundred and forty one, the great fat blob who wades in the bath today will be replaced by that skinny little rake of a human, with plenty of arm room to splash around, and a new wardrobe to buy.
Either that or we'll need to get a bigger bath.
Bigger bath? Not nice not nice