You know how there’s this
urban legend horrible truth strange phenomenon that tends to occur when men and women live together? Namely, that the woman “lets herself go” and gains a hundred and fifty a few pounds. Now, I’m not so sure about the whole “letting myself go” part, but the weight gain? I’m all over that one. Like Christina Aguilera on a double chocolate mocha cheesecake with extra whipped cream.
Now, I’d like to say that this is happening without my knowledge or consent. That the weight gain fairies are visiting me by night and adding a little extra padding. Or maybe CBG is slipping olive oil and whipping cream into my meals when I’m not looking because secretly he’s really a chubby chaser. But alas, the cold hard truth is that Happiness is to blame.
Happiness! You asshole.
I’ll be the first to admit that when I lived alone 50% of the time, it was a helluva lot easier to come home and have an apple and a handful of almonds for dinner on those nights when I was all by myself. Peeling myself out of my cold and empty bed for early morning runs wasn’t so bad, either. But now that I have a man to cook for and enjoy meals with, who also happens to have a warm and furry chest that’s perfect for snuggling, well, life has changed, friends.
These days life is full of fun, laughter, antics, and plenty of food.
I bring you Exhibit A:
See what I mean? Fun. Laughter. Antics. Extra calories.
And here we have Exhibit B:
In my defense, I allowed my girls to do this, too. Because it’s every kids dream to squirt whipped cream out of the can into their mouths…and it was something my own mother would have never dreamed of allowing. I earned myself some major awesome mom points that night along with a bigger behind.
Allow me to present Exhibit C:
Nothing like chillaxing on a Friday night after a long week with a bag of potato chips. Or two.
I could go on, but I believe that I’ll stop there. You get the point. There has been eating. By me. And between struggles with sciatica, a bum knee, anemia symptoms and a too-snuggly man in the early morning, getting out there for runs hasn’t exactly been easy.
So let’s go over this, kids, for those of you who might need it spelled out, even though the math really is quite simple.
Crap food + lack of exercise = fat ass.
But no more. It’s time to get back to basics. Channel my inner single gal who had the drive and the desire to eat right and exercise. Because beyond wanting to look good, I want to feel good, too….and surprise, surprise, eating frosting straight out of the container, snacking on potato chips a little too often and not running makes me feel like crap. Go figure.
Plus, I’m pretty sure that CBG isn’t really a chubby chaser after all. So there’s that, too.
To be fair, I will add the disclaimer here that it’s not like I’ve ballooned up or anything. But you know how it is. Even an extra
five ten pounds can make one feel pretty sluggish and rotten.
But really it’s about what true happiness is. And I can tell you that true happiness includes making time and effort to take care of myself physically. Because it’s pretty tough to be happy when you’re feeling uncomfortable in your own skin. Definitely not a place that I want to be.
So, kids, I’m putting down the potato chips, chocolate dipped bacon (yes, I tried that over the holidays), and the whipping cream to get back on the track that makes me happy – exercising, eating well, and doing the loving thing for myself.
Because that makes me a whole lot happier than any lazy morning in bed or chocolately treat ever could.