When I broke up with my last boyfriend I was ecstatic to have my personal time back. It had been a long time since I’d had my own routine and I couldn’t wait to do what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. I had grand plans of daily visits to the gym, cooking my weird healthy meals and eating them on the couch while watching marathons of Say Yes To The Dress.

I gained ten pounds during that relationship and while he didn’t care – he loved seeing me in the buff despite the extra junk in my trunk – I was ready to take back the control of my life, shed the extra weight, and hit the single scene with my svelte new frame.

Only the reality was so, so different.

Not only is the single scene rather sad and over-saturated with douche bags, but being single is actually making me fatter!

There is something to be said about having someone around, and not just for the comfort and companionship that comes with a boyfriend. Passing the time with someone else keeps your mind occupied so you’re talking and cuddling and giggling instead of mentally surveying what’s in your fridge. And, not that I care about eating in front of a boy (trust me – I ate a burger and fries in front of some models once), but having anyone around forces me to check myself before I start grazing through the cupboards and housing anything I can get my hands on. Now that I’m alone I’m to my own devices, and apparently those devices involve dipping everything into peanut butter, whether I’m hungry or not.

And forget the gym. Since I don’t have anyone to look good for, I often give in to that fat little devil sitting on my shoulder and trade in Spinning time for catching-up-on-my-DVR time. I keep telling myself I’ll go tomorrow; I have so much free time, why wouldn’t I go? But then I don’t go. I put on sweats, think of things to melt cheese on and retire to the couch for the rest of the night. Read More »