Happy fats.

Guess what? Everything's going well in your life, you've got great friends, you've got a boyfriend, work is good, living situation is great, the weather's getting warmer, the dinners are lasting longer, the beer is flowing harder, the gym membership is canceled, you're going to family reunions, hanging out at the lake, the new tires on your bike require less effort, you're seeing movies which require candy, the snacks are flowing like the mighty Mississipi...

BOOM. You've got the happy fats. Or more accurately, I've got the happy fats.

Look, I love my boyfriend. And bless him for being a big fan of me whatever size I am (and for being boy enough not to know the difference) but I've gained ELEVEN POUNDS since I started dating him. I think there might be some element of "letting myself go" but honestly I'm just a happy eater. If I'm even a little lonely or depressed I just don't have an appetite. If I'm happy, it's Anna-delicious-food-eating-fun-time. And then there's the social aspect. You're making dinner for each other, you're grilling out for your friends, you're having lady dates to keep up with your gal pals, and the fun times almost always involve some aspect of food. Doesn't sound too bad right?

But seriously. I had to buy new pants. And shorts. And skirts. And that shit gets expensive! To cut down on the sloppy body I started standing at work, so now I'm one of those weird "standers" whose head rises far above the cubical walls confusing passers-by and coworkers. A dude who shares a cube wall with me and doesn't understand the concept of a standing desk kept trying to order McDonalds from me during my first week of standing. But I'm finding all that standing is doing is making me rock back and forth all the time making my feet kill. So.

I'm not too worried about it - AT THIS POINT. I don't think I've reached whale-status yet, and I'm planning on the weight gain plateauing at, well, at 5 pounds ago, and it's summer so I'll keep biking and eating vegetables and crap but I think in the long run, I prefer happy eats to the rockin' body that comes with somber, foodless stretches of inactivity and lonely nights. Although I suppose I could just become a sad eater too. Yeah! Maybe I'll do that.

Naaaaaaaaaaah. Pass the chimichangas!