Yesterday I was having a lovely day with my boyfriend. We ate pancakes for breakfast. We went for a walk around our neighborhood. We talked dreamily about the future the way you do on a sunny Saturday morning.

And then, out of no where, the conversation turned sour.

I don’t remember how we got there, but for some incomprehensible reason, the conversation led him to say this:

BOYFRIEND: Well, you do have a little tummy.

He unwisely pats my tummy.

ME: (turning into a shrieking monster) WHAT?!

BOYFRIEND: No, I love it! It’s cute!

ME: IT’S CUTE THAT I’M FAT?!

BOYFRIEND: No! No, that’s not what I meant! It’s just that you’re getting older–

ME: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!??!!??!! Read More »

This past Saturday I woke up to a plate of food shoved in my face. After I wiped the sleep out of my eyes, I realized that my boyfriend had made me breakfast in bed. Although my first reaction was “Awwww,” with the warm fuzzy feelings and whatnot, upon closer inspection of the plate I wanted to vom. One very cheesy grilled cheese, mashed potatoes slathered in butter, and bacon.

I’m not a large girl by any means, I don’t know if this breakfast was an attempt to fatten me up, or just made because the guy knew that I liked grilled cheese, bacon, and occassionally mashed potatoes. When I say that I like grilled cheese, I mean that sporadically I will eat one for lunch. I scarf a couple of slices of bacon every month or so. Mashed potatoes are strictly for the holidays. I’m very much a veggie-wraps, grilled chicken, and salad kind of gal. To be faced with a plate like this and a very eager face waiting for my approval, well it was a little much for 10AM on a Saturday.

I ended up eating the entire plate, all the while feeling myself slowly expanding. Not only that, he wanted to order pizza for dinner. If I protest, I run the risk of looking like a typical diet obsessed female, to give in is only sentencing me to more ellipitical time in the coming week. Read More »