HappyFat

In movies and television a girl will get dumped and in the next scene you see her in her pajamas, spoon in hand, pint of chocolate ice cream in her lap, snotty tissues everywhere.   I thought this was the normal reaction for getting dumped.  Sowhen I went through my first breakup I remember heading straight for the freezer and digging right into the container.  This was an emergency, no time for scooping it in a dish first. I took a few frantic bites through the tears, paused, and then dramatically threw it back in the freezer unbelievably irritated that it didn’t magically fix my broken heart. I thought it was supposed to be the cure, or help soothe me a little, but nothing…just a nauseated, empty, heavy feeling at the bottom of my belly. When I am upset, sad, stressed, the last thing I want to do is eat. I have talked to a lot of girlfriends and they agree, when we are depressed, food is nowhere on the agenda.  It’s not a conscious decision, you just are not hungry and you don’t have the energy to pig out.

  I lost a bit of weight through some rough times and people would ask me how I lost it, looking for a secret workout or diet.  I would look them straight in the eye and say, “I got dumped by my abusive ex-boyfriend. Works every time.”  The awkwardness this caused was unbelievably entertaining, if not a little harsh on my part.  But it was true, and we forget that losing weight isn’t always a good sign. 

Lately though, I have been noticing this blatant disregard on my part for how many calories I have been shoving in my face.  My jeans are a little bit tighter when I put them on.  Body parts are a little rounder, a little softer and when I notice this in the mirror I don’t grab and pinch and dissect from every angle, I just shrug say “eh.” and move on.  You know what this means, don’t you?  These are all very clear signs that I am HappyFat. 

HappyFat is exactly what it sounds like: it is that extra little pudge you get when you start to become really, really happy.  I don’t know how it happens; I mean, I know I don’t eat that well, but I never have.  It’s like I am just so comfortable and care free that I am stuffing everything in my face for no reason except that I am alive and able and it tastes yummy.  I think I am aware that this reasoning makes no sense.

I don’t think it can be considered “letting yourself go”….yet; because I plan on this puffiness being temporary.  It will come off soon, eventually, and I will get back to being conscious of what I am ingesting.  For the rest of this weekend at least, I am going to bask in my embarrassingly smitten mood and eat everything I lay my eyes on.