Confessions of a Hungry Girl

I had my monthly chiropractor appointment today. The usual questions were answered.

"How is everything?"

"How's the neck?"

"Anything new?"

I normally answer the last question with Nope regardless of the actual answer. But today I said, "I think I've gained some weight."

He laughed and looked at my chart. "It says you were 110 here on your first appointment. I don't believe that. I think you are the only woman who lies about her weight in the opposite direction."

I get it. No one wants to hear about someone complaining for being "too skinny". But when I was in grade school one of my nick names was Ethiopian. With my over-active metabolism and inability to sit still, my doctors were worried about me. I had to drink Ensure. Do you know how weird it is to have Ensure packed in your lunchbox next to the JELL-O cup?

I hated its chalky taste. But, the real problem was that I hated almost everything. Beans. Peas. Any vegetable that was green, red, orange, or white. Or yellow. Sour Cream. Cream Cheese. Whipped Cream.

My food groups are fruit snacks, chicken nuggets, and ice cream (the only kind of cream I will eat). Those are also the three things I would take to a deserted island. And some sprinkles.

But, today as I proudly told my chiropractor that yes, I believed I had gained some weight, I stepped back to think about what has happened to me since grade school. Like most women, my weight has fluctuated between I Think I Look Good and Yup, My Jeans Do Not Fit. I gained 30lbs after living in Europe for 3 months. I had only two food groups then: cake and beer. Unfortunately, I can't even remember the last time I had cake.

But, I do remember the last time I ate McDonald's. It was Monday. Glorious Monday. And the Saturday before that. And the Friday before that. And the Thursday before that.

I just can't figure out where this new weight is coming from.