Thursday, 13 September 2007

To Post This or Not To Post This, That is the Weighty Issue at Hand

As I casually mentioned in yesterday's post, I eat when I'm down, and I guess that makes me a "comfort eater".

Well, maybe not in the traditional sense, but still.... when I'm really hurting, my appetite becomes odd and I stop paying attention to what I'm taking in and instead I just eat what makes my tummy smile because then at least a little part of me feels happy. It's not that I'm excessively hungry, just that "normal" foods don't appeal and if it's sit and be miserable on an empty stomach, or sit and eat something tasty but unhealthy, I'd rather the latter.

To be perfectly honest, even when I'm eating this way I'm not terrible, but it does start adding up. Especially when a breakup happens in summer and then you have two weeks off and no structure within which to monitor yourself.

All this is a long, convoluted way to say that I've put on a few pounds in the past month or so. As in, five.

Perhaps not surprising to some of you, seeing as I've been talking a lot lately about ice cream and other such yummies, but still not thrilling for me.

I'm not a large person, never have been, and you'd never tell from looking at me that I've put on any weight. In fact, you could see me naked and still not tell, but I can tell. My clothes tell me, more to the point.

When I put on more than a couple of pounds things start to fit tight, and gentlemen, you'll probably have a different reaction than the ladies, but my bra is the first thing that doesn't fit. And Guys? as much as you'd probably cheer on the expansion of bra sizes, it's not actually that great.

Since I'm laying it all out for you right now, I'll go ahead and confess that I am not in love with my breasteses. They're, in my mind, too large for my frame and I know we gals seem to always want what we don't have in terms of our looks, but I've never liked having "big" bazoomas. (Yeah, I'm blushing now, thanks) So when I put on a couple of pounds I feel like I'm all of a sudden nothing but a pair of breasts on sticks. (And dude, if I had a paint program, I could show y'all what exactly that looks like in my mind's eye. It's not attractive.)

I know a lot of this is just my own body insecurities, but the bottom line (hah, unintended pun) is that on a small person like me, while five pounds doesn't make a visible difference from the outside, *I* can tell and it really plays havoc on how I feel about myself.

I go from feeling like hot stuff to icky blobby frumpy. And, dude? Ain't no way I'm gonna get me no dates feeling all un-confident like that.*

So, why am I posting about this, you ask?

Um. I don't know? Laura's post maybe had something to do with it. And also because my weight has reached the point where it's bumming me out. Also maybe just to point out to some of you guys that even "small" girls get down on themselves and we really don't need your snarky weight comments, thank you very much. (Disclaimer: none of my boyfriends have ever said anything about my weight and would have been kicked to the curb if they had, especially since there's nothing for them to say anything about.)

I know, this is one of those issues that might be as touchy as bringing up what not to say during a breakup, and dealing with weight with your Significant Other can be really difficult. I, myself, alienated a boyfriend by bringing up my concerns around his eating habits (and consequent weight) and I'm not sure our relationship was "fixable" after that conversation, as carefully as I worded it. Ego is a delicate thing. But so is physical attraction.

Hmmm, I'm off track here. What was my point?

I guess I've just been mulling over the fact that so many people talk about how they lost ten pounds after their breakup because they were so depressed they couldn't eat. That's just never been me. I wonder if it's an instinctive survival thing; like my reptilian brain thinks "Uh oh, bad thing = no food soon therefore we must store food now until badness is over." Like maybe my brain thinks there's always an ice age around the corner whenever I get dumped or something? (Hmmm, maybe there's a Doctoral research essay in there for someone?)

So, yeah. I'm back to paying attention to what I eat and reminding myself that feeling hungry every once in a while doesn't mean I'm dying. It helps that I'm currently feeling a little less raw about the breakup too.

Let's hope it continues getting easier and that it doesn't take as long to lose the weight I've put on as it is taking me to get over Smith.


(I'm really not sure I want to post this, hence no's touchy enough, you know? I may un-post this later.)

*This post was written a couple of days before this nice thing happened. Can you see why that guy so totally made my day?
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