I was in a bar in Missoula, Montana three summers ago, and a guy noticed me and came over to tell me I’m a human skeleton.

That’s unusual behavior, and he didn’t appear drunk or condescending. I mentioned that I’ve always been thin, and after a short conversation, I got the impression he was an okay guy, even considering his remark. I figured he saw me at just the right angle, and it must have really struck him.

I could blame my father. When I graduated from high school, I was 6’0″ and about 145 lbs. (183 cm./66 kg.). I weigh only a bit more than that now. When my dad got out of high school, he weighed 155 pounds, but was 6’6″ (198 cm./70 kg.). That made him even skinnier than me. However, my dad is no longer the bean pole he once was.

Years ago, I consulted a trainer, increased my protein intake and lifted weights for a few months in an attempt to become less skinny. However, my body didn’t respond the way I’d hoped. My muscles became well-toned, but there was just a slight increase in bulk. I’ve since told a few people that this weight-lifting program allows me to say I no longer have ribbon arms. I’ve upgraded to pencil arms!

So I’m resigned to being skinny, or as I prefer to say, thin. Some people have told me I should eat more or put some meat on my bones. Even my mother has told me this multiple times, however, I prefer to eat the healthiest diet possible and not focus on filling out.

While it’s not so bad being thin, there are a few detriments.

At one of the running groups I attend, a woman once challenged me to arm wrestle. She is not petite, but nor is she muscular or bulky. I avoided emasculation, but it was a struggle.

Also, my arms are so skinny, my blood vessels don’t have enough room to fit inside.

And finally, you’d think only cows would have trouble crossing a cattle grate.

However, I do too. I’m so thin, I fall through the bars and have to wait for someone to come along and rescue me.