Malcolm shook his head. It must be all the stress. He couldn't figure out what was going on with his wife, but she was acting odd, and it seemed with work and all to be making him nuts. He had been trying to lose weight, but you don't lose inches all at once. He was one of those guys who always seemed to calm down, and think more clearly after strenuous exercise.
His drawers dropped to his ankles. He shook his head. Maybe he had lost weight, and been so wrapped up in work and his personal life that he hadn't noticed. He might have just been cinching the belt tighter. He walked over to the dresser, and opened the bottom drawer with his Spandex gym gear. These wouldn't be loose on him. He finished changing into his gym kit, and finished unpacking. He pulled on a pair of nylon shorts with a drawstring, and cinched it tight. He put on his trainers, and headed out.
His wife's jaw dropped as he ran past her and out the kitchen door.
"Done unpacking. Heading to gym. Be back in a couple hours," he shouted, as he slammed the door behind him.
"Damn, the spell didn't work!" she exclaimed in anger. "I've been gypped!"