I've only lost weight twice in my life. Once, when I was fourteen and stopped eating. And once when my ex and I broke up and I was too distraught to eat for three weeks.
Prior to The Break-up of '08 I never understood those women who couldn't eat when they were upset. Nothing soothes me better when I'm feeling blue than bottle of wine and some fresh chocolate chip cookies. Or mac and cheese. Or just cheese. But I guess I never had that crushing sadness before The Break-up.
Of course, it was absolutely the right move to end the relationship, but I couldn't believe that at the time. After three weeks of mourning, I pulled myself out of bed, put on some newly-loose pants and stepped on the scale. I'd dropped 11 lbs in three weeks. Sweet! I made sure everyone knew that, too. I was proud. Proud at 175 lbs.
By the following year I put on 5 pounds. That was about my average - 5 lbs a year. It doesn't seem like a lot, and really, one wouldn't ever notice it. But, when you look back 10 years - holy crap, that's 50 lbs!
Then I started nursing school. That was two years of extreme stress, vending machine dinners, late night study snacking and wine. In my two years of school, I gained 19 pounds. And I was officially a cow. And taking off that weight ain't easy. I don't even know where to begin.
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