The Break-Up Diet

(Original Post: January 18, 2006 - Wednesday)

Wow, where do I begin. There is a new epidemic on the rise. Women are losing weight all over the United States. It has nothing to do with exercise. It does not require 8 glasses of water a day, and there is no grapefruit or salad necessary. All it requires is love gone badly.
For some reason women do not eat when they are suffering from a broken heart. My roommate lost twenty pounds. She only ate one package of slim fast noodles a day. That's it! One package of noodles a day. My friend Nel is down to a size 2. Don't get me wrong, I'm only a size 8. IN MY SHOE!
And she informed me the other day that size 2 is a little big on her now. She weighs 109 and is hoping to get down to 105. Just a couple of unreturned phone calls to go.
She said the other day she was eating a corndog and could barely finish the whole thing because she had gotten used to not eating. I said, hmmm, really. Because I just finished off a sausage sampler at Dennys. And even after eating the eggs, hash browns, sausage patties and links, with a side of pancakes and one piece of toast I was still looking at My daughter's grilled cheese like, "you aren't going to eat all of that, are you sweetie?"
I got to thinking. Have I ever been so heartbroken I couldn't eat? Because it seems to me when I'm happy and comfortable and secure, I eat. And when I'm lonely, miserable and depressed, I eat. And when it's a day where a few people call me and I know I'm reasonably cared about, I eat. But let me think ... Has it ever happened. My roommate reminded me, that indeed, it had.
Last year sometime I was dating a guy. We went out for awhile, practically lived together for a minute, and overall had a blast. I went to California for a visit, and well, those that know me, know that after I visit California I usually return to tell an often times great guy that I no longer want to see him anymore. Twas the case here.
Anyway, a few months later I got back in touch with him and realized his potential far exceeded what I had initially thought. I invited him out and again, we had a blast. Only this time it was different. This time he brought friends along. Female friends. They seemed too familiar with him. This time he drank a little too much. And this time I saw something in him I had not seen before. Asshole potential. But that didn't stop me. When the evening came to a close I asked him if he was ready to leave. He assured me that he wanted to; However, he promised his friend that they would smoke pot together, so he'd have to pass. "But maybe tomorrow?" He said as he ran out the door to get high.
That night we went to McDonalds, like we normally do on drunken stupid nights in Baltimore. Only this time I passed on the pounder, I passed on the big and tasty, and I passed on the, yep, you guessed it, Chicken Nuggets. I couldn't eat. I had that punched in the stomach feeling. I had officially begun the break-up diet. It lasted till the next day when I chomped down every piece of candy I could find and went to Denny's for, yep; you guessed it, a sausage sampler.
Someone said, is losing weight worth it? Is it worth pain and suffering to lose a couple pounds? To them I say this ... have you spent an hour in fucking body step class? Have you ever tried to squeeze a size 14 ass into an old pair of size 12 jeans. That's pain and suffering. Bring on the heart break.