Whenever I get a new friend on Facebook, one of the first things I do is scroll through all their photos.  You can learn a lot about someone from their photos–their partner, friends, favorite activities, pets, family, what they do for work, etc.  I was just doing the picture scroll for a recently added friend, when suddenly it occurred to me to look at my own pictures – what story would they tell?  What would someone learn about me?  I went to my photos, and here are the themes that emerged:

  1. I’m married
  2. I love my dog, but she looks like she is only tolerating me in almost every picture
  3. I have a core group of girlfriends that I spend a lot of time with
  4. I travel
  5. I do theatre
  6. I am always stuffing my face

The last one came as a slight surprise – I mean, I know I love food, but at some point I thought, “Jeez, why are people always taking pictures of me when I’m trying to eat or drink something?”  And then it occurred to me, that maybe it was because I am always eating, and people just get sick of waiting for me to stop and take the picture anyway.

Here are just a few examples of what I’m talking about:

And trust me, there are many, many more.

But I do notice how happy I look in all these pictures.  And why wouldn’t I?  I am about to devour something delicious.  I love food, and will happily add extra cardio to my workout to compensate for eating all the treats I want – especially desserts.

I just finished doing a show where I had to be in my underwear during part of the performance.   I was no more exposed than I would be in a bikini, and while I was in Florida this fall I walked around in a bikini on the beach several times a week and never thought twice about it.  But I will tell you, it feels very different exposing a lot of skin on the beach where pretty much no one is looking at you, than it does on a brightly lit stage where everyone is SUPPOSED to look at you.  Doing it onstage is a lot more vulnerable.  A lot.

So needless to say, while working on this show, I was paying attention to my eating and exercise habits.  But maintaining a hardcore of a level of fitness?  Not lagom for me.  I could probably stand to keep up the extra exercise since it’s good for me, but I definitely am looking forward to eating with gusto again.  And I realized that my current weight/fitness level is probably the most I’m willing to strive for and maintain.

Which means anything in my closet that doesn’t fit me now, never will.  If I put a pair of jeans on and feel like a sausage about to bust out of its casing, then those jeans have to go.  Because I am not willing to diet or work out any harder than I already do.

So I went through my clothes and kicked out anything that proved unattainable.  I won’t miss those items.

Thanks for making me feel fat, BITCHES.

This is the last time you’ll make me feel fat, you BITCHES.

They will never make me happier than stuffing my face:

Crepes in Paris.  Happiness.

Crepes in Paris. Happiness.

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