What’s Weight Got to do With It?
My single status has been teetering between available, semi-available, and soon to be unavailable since my last serious relationship ended in March of 2007. I’ve yet to find anyone worthy of the sacrifices a real commitment takes. In the not so distant past, I did, however, get pretty darn close to wanting to take myself off the market for someone who could have been pretty darn special to me. That didn’t work out quite as I had envisioned. Although the intermittent tears, tears more for a bruised ego than a broken heart, have long since dried, I got close enough to conjure recollections of one of the very nasty side effects of co-habitation – weight gain.
I’m by no means a lazy person, and right now I’m operating with small windows of free time that I can either choose to spend socially, blogging, in bed (sleep or otherwise), or at the gym. I try to find a balance where I don’t feel socially depraved, fat, tired, or starving for a blog post. Take that juggling act and throw in another ball, in the shape of a man, and you’ve got a circus act that leaves magic to the imagination. I know I’m not alone out there, and I also know that sometimes finding time for a workout is impossible, even when there’s a little bit more time to go around.
We’re Letting Ourselves Go, but Why?
Something just isn’t right here. There are those miraculously fit women who never gain a pound, but the majority of us pack on the winter weight, even if it is summer, as we approach domesticity and seal ourselves inside the monogamy envelope. What’s going on here? Is it a time thing? Is it a question of priorities? Are we just too comfortable being coupled up? Are we unhappy…unsatisfied…starved for sex and attention? I think there could be truth in any of these reasons, but the underlying reason behind all of these excuses is that…
taking care of our bodies is work, and once we’ve landed the boyfriend contract, the incentive to put in the work becomes as desirable as returning to blind dates and bad first dates.
Settling in to the Fat
I’ve never been in a relationship where I was able to maintain my ideal weight, but I’ve also never been in a really phenomenal relationship. Is that the key? Are we settling for relationships that don’t inspire us to take care of ourselves? I think so, and I’m 100% confident it’s not a problem unique to women.
Men settle. Women settle.
When we’re single, our idealism is tempered with realism and we set standards and say to ourselves, “the next person I date will be x, y, z, and then some.” Circumstances, however, change everything. We meet someone who doesn’t live up to our criteria initially, we get to know them, and we like them; letting the little things go seems natural, obligatory, and right. So we sacrifice a little, and settle for something less than perfect. It may seem harmless in the moment, but settling (although the difference between compromise and sacrifice is a big gray mass) equates to future tangible unhappiness that will be expressed through our behaviors, either via food, lack of exercise, or worst of all an emotional and/or physical affair.
Removing the Junk in the Trunk
This is where I can only guess at the solution. I can add up the total of my experiences, including the one where I almost walked down the aisle, and I can reflect, and I can decide that an exceptional relationship is not an option – it’s deal or no deal time. Of course even the exceptional relationship will never prevent the added junk from piling up in the trunk at times, but the exceptional partner in the exceptional relationship will be the right motivation for preventing the junk from transforming into garabage. In a perfect world the expectional relationship will also include frequent exceptional sex to help combat any missed trips to the gym. Here’s to being single and idealistic!
