First it was Sydney Greenstreet.

For the 50th time, I watched “Casablanca” last week and was most startled by the scenes between Bogie and Greenstreet about selling Rick’s bar. I knew all of the dialogue, of course, but was startled when Bogie called Greenstreet “The fat man.”

He didn’t look all that big to me anymore.

Then it was Perry Mason.

I watched the reruns for the 100th time and was startled that Raymond Burr, who used to be hugely fat, had turned into just another “husky” man. Come to think of it, Jackie Gleason wasn’t all that fat anymore in the “Honeymooner” reruns.

Something was happening.

Then, of course, it was Reggie White.

White was the enormous defensive end for the Eagles, then the Packers. New England fans will remember him for slaughtering Patriots quarterback Drew Bledsoe, sacking him three times in the 1997 Super Bowl. As Bledsoe will attest, White was one of the greatest and toughest defensive football players ever, finishing with 198 quarterback sacks.

I say “was” because White dropped dead last month at the shocking age of 43 from respiratory problems aggravated by sleep apnea. Sleep apnea is characterized by loud snoring and even interruption of breathing. I have never heard any evidence, but those in earshot of my pillow have claimed that I snore like a freight train. They tell me that both snoring and apnea are caused by – I hate the word – fat.

I used to say that I was “big boned” and came from a family of “large” people. My father at 5-foot-10 was over 300 pounds. It was all in the genes, I argued to doctors and those concerned with my health.

Now it is in my jeans.

I moved to Maine in 1971 wearing size 32 jeans. Those were the days when I refused to take my shirt off because you could see my ribs. Last month I was forced into buying size 40 jeans. There has not been a rib sighting in decades, and although I still refuse to take my shirt off in public, it is for much different reasons.

It is time.

It is time to go back to the YMCA. It is time to get all sweaty at least three times a week. It is time to ban the 10 p.m. toast. I would stop drinking beer, but I already have. Don’t even buy it anymore.

It is time to lose some serious weight.

Now that I am on Social Security, I want to live as long as possible to get as much of my money back as I can. I want to see my two fabulous grandchildren grow up.

My new year’s resolution?

I want to be thinner than Sydney Greenstreet by New Year’s 2006.

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.