To Eat Or Not To Eat, That Is The Question...

Every few weeks or so, I schedule in a therapy session with myself. In the session, I go through a mental checklist of things going on in my life that are making me happy and the things that are making me not-so-happy in an effort to make sure I'm working towards being the best me I can be. Today, I met with myself for a quick session ,which went a little something like this: Job? Manageable. Relationship? Good. Friendships? Getting better. Contributions towards humanity? Bought a bum lunch (not sure if that was a good contribuition considering I got him fast food). Weight? Exponentially increasing. Need to go on a diet asap. Therapy quickly came to an end as I realized my old nemisis, the additional 7lbs, was back.

It never ceases to amaze me how something as trivial as gaining some extra weight can make or break the way I feel about myself. Overall, I'm a pretty strong chick. I've overcome workplace harassment in too many jobs, ran a full 26.2 mile marathon, dealt with multiple breakups, and even camped at the bottom of the Grand Canyon for a full week (like real camping, not the sissy outhouse kind). Sounds like nothing could knock me down, right? Unfortunately, I'm brought down to my knees (and not in a good way) everytime I step on the scale and see a number more than what I deem to be the perfect weight.

My relationship with food has never been normal, but can best be explained as this: when I'm miserable, I don't eat and when I'm happy, I eat down the house. My extra 7 lb body does not always fit into American society, especially when one lives in San Diego and bathing suit season is right around the corner. I'm hoping that some super smart person will build a time machine fast, so I can transport myself to the 14th century when plump women were considered hot just until the end of August. In the meantime, I suppose it wouldn't kill you guys to judge me on my thoughts, actions, personality, etc., rather than what size muffin top I have when trying to squeeze into my old jeans.

Keepin it real,
GenXYZ