Wednesday, February 4, 2015

my affairs

I have had three affairs in my life. The first time I initiated it, the next two I was lured by a phone call and a little card in the mail saying they missed me and wanted me back. Sometimes that’s all a girl needs to hear. They seemed to come knocking whenever I was in the thick of it, or feeling down in the frumps. I’d then remember how good it was when we were together, how my body felt, how I’d leave our weekly rendezvous feeling energized, alive, sexy, motivated, happy... Whenever we met, they’d greet me with a smile, throw their arms around me and my overly curvy curves, and even shower me with gifts (like a coupon holder, a chip clip, or tester sized granola bar). They were the sweet, smiling staff at Weight Watchers. No matter what that scale of shame read, they were happy to see me. It always started out the same. I’d drop a pound or 3 and feel exhilarated, a little cocky, and excited for our future. But things between us would eventually sour. I would cheat on them, get tired of their ways and stop showing up, never to return phone calls or respond to emails.

Trying to rid myself of a solid 8-12 pounds has been a lifelong ambition/struggle/pain in the ass, so you can imagine how elated I was when, little by little, I started effortlessly shedding weight, just as my life began to unravel. 

Here’s how it went down: My kids were one and four when my husband and I called it quits. My son was in preschool and my daughter had just learned how to walk, at a time when I could barely put one foot in front of the other. I didn’t want my children to know that I was dying inside, so I saved my crying for the four walls of my bathroom. It was there one day, while the tears were gushing and I was wondering how I’d ever make it through, that I glanced in the mirror. What I saw made me gasp! I froze and the waterworks abruptly stopped. All I could think was, “my ass looks incredible in these boy shorts!” My body had morphed in a way that was probably completely unhealthy, but who cares? My husband was gone and so was my appetite! Even though my life was falling apart, I looked HOT! Yes, it’s shallow. No, it didn’t last, and I am in no way suggesting or advocating a daily diet consisting of the crust from the toast your kid doesn’t eat, coffee, and a 5PM glass (or 2) of Chardonnay. All I’m saying is, for a girl who’s always wanted a slimmer silhouette, this was a temporary blessing from the heavens… and I was euphoric! My lifelong friend, Mary, said my butt looked like Jennifer Aniston’s. Can you imagine? I hugged her with all my might. Again, I cried… big, fat tears of pure JOY!

The early months of my separation were gloomy and dark, but when I least expected it, a rainbow appeared. Mine happened to be in the form of a thigh gap and a cheap pair of size 2 jeans I bought at Target, knowing they would soon wind up in the Goodwill pile. 

I tell all my friends who are going through their own torrential storms to look for the rainbows. They’re sometimes hard to spot, but they’re out there. They’re in a killer blow dry, a Facebook friend request from the biggest babe in high school, or a weekend girls’ getaway. Rainbows are pretty. Sure, they don’t last forever, but the good part is, neither does the rain!

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