Nothing will cause a woman's weight to fluctuate more than when she falls in love. When she is in the market for true love, she might work out to excess, getting up at ungodly hours to go for a run or a bike ride, watch her carb-to-protein intake and decline dessert after her sensible dinner. She does this because she knows that she stands a better chance with all the competition out there if she looks and feels better about herself. OK, that's a crock-o-crap. Truth be told, if she is planning on letting someone new gain carnal knowledge of her, she wants to feel hot.
When she finds love, she might regain the few pounds she shed before she found it because she is happy and allows herself the simple pleasures of pancakes and bacon for Sunday brunch, followed by a lazy day or three in bed with her dreamy new heartthrob.
And, if she loses the love she was so longing for, she might seek comfort in Krispy Kreme doughnuts, nacho cheese-flavored Doritos and sinful chocolate milk shakes (made with real ice cream, like the ones you find at Sonic Burger, for instance). That will cause her to not only hate the entire world for disappointing her and breaking her heart, but to hate herself as she is forced to resort to leaving the skirt she struggled to pull up over her rapidly increasing hips unbuttoned.
As I sit here this morning at the ungodly hour of 5:30 after just having finished my 30-minute jaunt around the neighborhood, followed by 100 sit-ups, two sets of 25 push-ups, and a delicious breakfast of slimy, boogery egg whites and runny oatmeal, it occurs to me that I might be in the market for love. Again.
Although I have to tell you, I did manage to fall head over heels just last week. But alas, it was the superficial kind of love that comes with falling for someone's exterior qualities. I knew right up front it was destined to cool off after awhile. But man, did it feel good when it was happening. The best. With just one look across the crowded room, through all the hustle and bustle, she caught my eye. And, as if struck by lightning, I knew I was finally experiencing love at first sight.
She was stunning, sleek, classy, all of the things that I aspire to be but somehow manage to fall just short of. I wondered if somehow just a smidge of her elegance might rub off on me if we spent time together. I was willing to do whatever it took to find out.
As I made my way toward her, a thought crossed my mind: What would people think? My ex-husband? My children? What would they think if I showed up with her? Would they be shocked? Did I care? No, I didn't—selfishness reigned victorious as I decided to make my presence known to her. I wanted her so badly I was shaking. I knew I was being silly. I wasn't even sure if I could have her; everyone in the room had remarked on her beauty.
I had to get closer to her, I wanted to get to know her, wanted to find out if she was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. I wanted to know everything about her. My palms were sweating and my heart was racing, but somehow I mustered the confidence to approach her. I didn't care if the others had more money or more prestigious lifestyles; don't ask me how, but I felt certain that she belonged with me.
I casually strolled past, not paying her too much attention. I didn't want anyone to know how badly I wanted her. That could blow my entire plan. So I just strutted on by without a care in the world, an air of confidence in my step. I got close to her, close enough to touch her ... but I didn't. Oh, how I wanted to, though. I wanted to caress her, wanted to cherish her and fall asleep inside of her. She was even more beautiful close up. As I stood beside her I caught a vibe ... she wanted me too. For a brief moment, I thought I might pass out from the excitement of it all.
Romantic thoughts coursed through my mind. I saw us together at the beach. I was laughing, happy, carefree. She made me smile and I didn't care if people stared or thought us an unlikely pair, I was proud to be with her. We deserved to be together.
Just then a handsome, middle-aged man approached; he was openly ogling her. How bold! Did he not see me standing there waiting for the right moment to approach? Bastard! He tore his eyes away from her long enough to see my discontent. He looked from her to me and back at her. I didn't say one word. I decided that instead of becoming belligerent at his apparent attempt to rooster-block me, that I would be coy, with just a drop of flirtatious giddiness. I tilted my head toward her lovingly and batted my eyelashes. My smile must have told all because he gave me an approving nod and backed off. Men are so easy—I'm sure that just the thought of she and I together was more than he could handle. Not that it mattered; he would have been rebuffed anyway, as it was obvious that she wanted me, too.
So ... I bought her.
Now, armed with my gorgeous, sleek, convertible Mercedes CLK, a body that I have been working out to excess, and more confidence than I've ever had before, I am in the market for true love. Again. And I'm keeping my fingers crossed that this beautiful car won't be driving me to Sonic Burger to drown myself in chocolate milk shakes made with real ice cream after yet another disappointing heartbreak. ... Again.
Sonja is a writer who covers the ins and outs of relationships. Or is it the ups and downs?