I’ve never been a fitness fanatic but I’ve always prided myself on having a pretty decent physique—that is until I settled into a happy relationship. Since then, the healthy me has disappeared and in her place is one greedy girlfriend. I know I’m getting out of control but I just can’t help myself. Love is making me fat.
All those dinner dates are starting to get to me.
The single life may not have made me feel all gooey inside, but it certainly helped keep me from having a flabby middle. I love going out for dinner with my BF and treating ourselves, but the result is that it’s taking its toll on my waistline. All those burgers and fries weren’t going to stay hidden forever, and in my loved-up state, I’m wearing them proud.
I may not be man-sized but I’m starting to eat his portions.
When I’m on my own, I eat like an average person. Since I’ve started sitting down for dinner across from an adult male regularly, though, I’ve become convinced that I need his portion size too. Nobody wants to pick at their meal with a fork when the person opposite is delving into a spaghetti mountain. At least that’s what I tell myself now.
I’m finally comfortable with who I am.
The best thing about being in a relationship? Knowing that someone loves you exactly as you are. Why would I waste time trying to squeeze into my skinny jeans when the guy I’m with couldn’t care less? Thanks to my BF, I finally feel sexy in my own skin—I should be embracing it, not fighting it!
I’m not bothered about impressing people.
When you’re hitting the town every Friday in the skimpiest frock in your wardrobe, diet is understandably a top priority. Now that I’m not out trying to impress people, worrying about how I look has taken a back seat. It’s a relief to be able to sit back, eat that cookie, and know that it makes no difference to my happiness whether I’m a few pounds heavier or not.
I admit it—I’m majorly nesting.
Like a bear cozying up for winter hibernation, I’ve started nesting in a serious way. Being loved-up makes me want to stay home and bake cookies, not slave away on the treadmill. In fact, I can’t believe I didn’t see the light sooner.
When he’s not there, I eat to fill the void.
I admit it, I’m soppy AF and I’ve gotten used to having someone on call for cuddles any time of the day or night. The result? When my BF’s not around, I replace him with chocolate. When I need comforting, a piece of grilled fish just isn’t going to cut it.
Who needs a good body for cozying up on the couch?
Feeling body-conscious when I’m out with the girls is no fun but when it comes to snuggling up indoors, it literally couldn’t matter less. Now that most of my evenings have become nights in, I can afford to let the gym slide. Why waste all that energy on toning my legs if they’re going to be hidden under a blanket for most of the night anyway?
My guy isn’t with me purely for looks.
Sure, if I was dating a really shallow guy, all this would lead to me embracing the single life again pretty quickly. The fact that my BF doesn’t judge my worth by the way that I look is just proof to me that we have something special. Suddenly, worrying what he’ll think of the way I look in my outfit all seems horribly superficial.
Since when was romance kindled over salad?
If there’s a food of love, it’s certainly not hiding in the fruit and veg aisle (except maybe strawberries). No one ever cooked a romantic dinner under 600 calories and it’s just not fun eating that kind of food as a couple. Being in a relationship is about enjoying everything together, and that includes a hearty meal.
Men don’t get soup.
It’s not just about food that you can sit down to and enjoy—being with someone else means catering to their tastes, and men like their carbs and protein a LOT. No guy has ever thanked me for placing a warming bowl of soup in front of him, and I’d much rather share a meal that we both enjoy.
I’ll diet for the wedding.
Being in a relationship isn’t an excuse to go completely off the rails with my health, but it is a welcome step towards normality, where it doesn’t matter whether I eat that bag of chips or not. I know that if I want to look smoking hot for a special occasion (such as, dare I say, a wedding), I’ll be able to slim down in no time. In the meantime, I’m enjoying being a content, if slightly chubby, version of myself.
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