Cute baby

A couple comes in today to see me at work. They bring their six month old daughter. She is cutie. She has chubby cheeks and little dimples on her arms - absolutely adorable. She is a bit of a rolly-polly, so I ask innocently how much the baby weighs. I know it was none of my business but you are allowed to ask someone's weight if they are under the age of 4. After that, it is either creepy or they are old enough to ask you how much you weigh.
Anyways, the mother says to me that the baby weighs 9 pounds, 3 ounces. This may sound normal to you. However, this is downright scary for me. You ask why? The reason is because I weighed the exact same weight as this baby when I was BORN. I had never realized how Godzilla-like in size I must have been until today.
As soon as I got home from work, I called my mother. I told her the story and then I asked her what the H - E - double hockey sticks did she eat while she was pregnant to have a sumo wrestler for a new born. She said she ate normally and that her and dad sprang extra money for a specialist for her pre-natal care. I don't see how these two things are related but I let it pass. Calmly, I asked to speak to my dad. Again, I repeated this story and asked dad what mom ate while she was pregnant. He told me that mom (he is very cute, he doesn't call, his wife, my mom "my mom"; he just calls her "mom", ate bananas all the time. He even told me that the doctor wanted to give mom diet pills while she was pregnant. Geez, what a great specialist. Mom and dad should have saved their money. At this very moment, I hear an unworldly scream come from somewhere behind my dad. Mom grabs the phone away from dad, calling him a bad name in the process. She said that this was a lie and it was time for her to hang up the phone. Click. She's gone. I am left holding the receiver, realized that the demise to any diet I will break or any exercise regime I will discard is the result of the lowly banana. I never stood a chance.