It’s not easy being a woman. We only earn $.78 for every dollar dudes earn, we have to put up with things like periods and high heels, and—maybe worst of all—we’re constantly being bombarded with advice from lady mags, lady sites, and lady-oriented talk shows that purport to know what we should be doing to get thinner, sexier, and happier. Too often their tips are questionable at best and downright moronic at worst.

So every week I’m taking a look at the advice that falls into the “moronic” end of that spectrum. If I can convince even one girl to reconsider whatever’s being professed in her glossy of choice, I’ll sleep a little better at night.

In the relatively small pool of article templates that women’s magazines turn to month after month (find the best jeans for your body type! Learn how to make a smoky eye! Consider swinging—wait, whaaa?) there are two perennial models that will never go out of style: tips on how to lose weight and tips on how to snag a man. Knowing this, the editors at Women’s Health have come up with a genius idea for an article that combines both topics. It’s called “Prevent Love Chub,” and it’s about how your S.O. is making you fat.

Yes, even though ladymags believe any female who isn’t constantly attached to or trying to become attached to a man is kind of sad at best and totally pathetic at worst, now Women’s Health is also saying that boyfriends are any body-conscious chica’s worst enemy.

See, men sabotage our toned limbs and flat bellies in five distinct ways—they love eating out (… at restaurants! Get your mind out of the gutter!), they prevent us from being physically active, they encourage us to eat more in order to keep up with them, they buy unhealthy food, and, worst of all, they make us happy. And as author Jill Waldbieser says, “Research shows that what’s good for your heart may be bad for your hips.” More specifically: “A study published last year in the journal BioPsychoSocial Medicine found that happy people were less likely to succeed at losing weight than those with a ‘slightly negative and cautious outlook.’” Read More »

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 »

When we heard about the casting call for MTV’s reality show Freshman 15, we might have peed our pants a little. What could be more fun than watching freshman battle the bulge on national television (laughter, tears, and more than one beer and nacho binge guaranteed to ensue)? We are suckers for anything MTV, especially when it includes vulnerable freshies and crack-the-whip personal trainers (do I smell a Dustin Diamond meltdown coming my way?)

Yeah, so there is no doubt I’ll be on my couch with a bag of Doritos on the night of the premiere. Hey I’m going to be eating for fifteen starving freshman now! But despite my excitement, I do have one problem with this new show.

Where the hell was it three years ago? I totally could have used a show like this when I was a freshman, eating my way towards a pair of maternity pants and a premature heart attack. While I spent the summer after my freshman year eating carrot sticks and sweating my ass off on an elliptical, these kids will get free personal training and a good six months of fame out of their newly acquired bulge. Not to mention that the show is a competition, so it will most likely end with some lucky chubster being awarded a prize of some sort.

Being awarded a prize for losing your freshman 15?! All I was left with was a couple stretch marks and the need to suppress a newfound crazing for pizza at all hours of the night. I’ll tell you one thing – these are a lucky bunch of kids.

If you’re a fat college freshman, please allow me to live vicariously through you and apply asap!

Yesterday I was having a lovely day with my boyfriend. We ate pancakes for breakfast. We went for a walk around our neighborhood. We talked dreamily about the future the way you do on a sunny Saturday morning.

And then, out of no where, the conversation turned sour.

I don’t remember how we got there, but for some incomprehensible reason, the conversation led him to say this:

BOYFRIEND: Well, you do have a little tummy.

He unwisely pats my tummy.

ME: (turning into a shrieking monster) WHAT?!

BOYFRIEND: No, I love it! It’s cute!

ME: IT’S CUTE THAT I’M FAT?!

BOYFRIEND: No! No, that’s not what I meant! It’s just that you’re getting older–

ME: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?!??!!??!! Read More »

This past Saturday I woke up to a plate of food shoved in my face. After I wiped the sleep out of my eyes, I realized that my boyfriend had made me breakfast in bed. Although my first reaction was “Awwww,” with the warm fuzzy feelings and whatnot, upon closer inspection of the plate I wanted to vom. One very cheesy grilled cheese, mashed potatoes slathered in butter, and bacon.

I’m not a large girl by any means, I don’t know if this breakfast was an attempt to fatten me up, or just made because the guy knew that I liked grilled cheese, bacon, and occassionally mashed potatoes. When I say that I like grilled cheese, I mean that sporadically I will eat one for lunch. I scarf a couple of slices of bacon every month or so. Mashed potatoes are strictly for the holidays. I’m very much a veggie-wraps, grilled chicken, and salad kind of gal. To be faced with a plate like this and a very eager face waiting for my approval, well it was a little much for 10AM on a Saturday.

I ended up eating the entire plate, all the while feeling myself slowly expanding. Not only that, he wanted to order pizza for dinner. If I protest, I run the risk of looking like a typical diet obsessed female, to give in is only sentencing me to more ellipitical time in the coming week. Read More »