Happy Fat

Vol, a photo by tielji on Flickr.

One of the only benefits to having a broken heart is the "Break up and Die" diet. Good GRIEF that was awesome! I lost every ounce of weight that I put on when I quit smoking in three weeks! I had the best time pulling my favorite outfits out of solitary confinement (otherwise known as the "I will fit into this again one day, I swear to God" section of the closet). Honestly, it was like getting a whole new wardrobe! A whole new wardrobe that most of which had since become outdated - and was promptly sent to Goodwill.

When BF and I got back together, I slowly put back on that ole Quit Weight. However, it couldn't be called Quit Weight anymore - now it could only be called Happy Fat.

Happy Fat stinks. It won't exercise off, it won't starve off, it won't melt off with sauna heat - noooo, Happy Fat is here to stay.

I am grateful that Happy Fat can be camouflaged and hidden with the right clothing, but I want to dance naked (in my own home when noone is there, by the way) at least one more time before I turn into an old lady - and Happy Fat doesn't dance naked.

The only solution that I can think of is the "Break up and Die" diet, and every once in awhile I get desperate enough to contemplate starting the process.

Thankfully - my heart knows how to trump my vanity and will shake some sense back into my head.

I just wish that when my heart shook some sense into my head, my Happy Fat wouldn't jiggle so much.