Gaining is Bad. Regaining is Worse.

At my heaviest, I was 335 pounds. I lost 32 pounds (just couldn’t hit 300) thanks to lots of more sex and salads. That sounds like some strange fetish but it isn’t. I’m 6ft and large framed, so 200 pounds looks “hot” on me. The right balance of muscle and softness. THAT’s my goal. Think  Robyn Lawley (closest to my body type), Laura Wells (next closest), or Denise Bidot if you need an idea. Sadly, I don’t have hips like Ashley Graham, but whatever. Anyway, that is my idea of hot. That’s my ultimate goal. This time, I’ll appreciate being a size 12/14 and not let that number limite my wardrobe to t-shirts and jeans.

Now I’ve hopped on the scale at random, only to find I’ve gained 13 pounds since moving in with my boyfriend. I attribute this to less sex and more ice cream. The man comes home exhausted from work with ice cream every other night and I don’t even think to say no. I just eat it. WTF is wrong with me. I’ve only now realized what’s going on. I’m not having any of it.

Ice cream = 1/week

Sex = 3-4/week

That’s the way it should be.

In the meantime, I need to get back to having salads for lunch and dinner. I must also stop eating meat as often as he does because he’s naturally very muscular and can eat whatever he wants. He’s actually LOST weight (despite not lifting like he used to). So while he wants to gain mass, I’m like, “Buh-bye.”

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