I’m not really sure if it’s the 12 pounds I’ve gained from working in an office, the fact that the other day my boyfriend tried to pick me up and fell over or that I’m lonely for fat chicks but I’m starting up this blog again.

Okay, it’s the boyfriend trying to pick me up shit. Here’s how it went down…(literally):

Today was just like any other day except that I started to sneak eat. That’s right, when my boyfriend was in the shower I downed some Christmas candy and when he went in for a kiss I felt guilty and confessed. Awhile later I saw him go into the bathroom and I jammed some chocolate-covered nuts into my gullet and again he tried to kiss me and I confessed.

You’d think that he’d understand from all of that sneak eating I’m packing on the pounds and ashamed to be seen eating in public. But that didn’t stop him from trying (and failing) to pick me up. It wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he was a little guy, in fact it might have been quite cute. But when your man is 6’6” and always bragging about how strong he is, it’s less than adorable to see him crumble under your weight. He blamed being drunk, which he wasn’t all night—again, he’s a big guy. One wine spritzer, even if it did have vodka in it, isn’t going to fuck him up. And then he tried to tell me that his muscles were tired and sore from going to the gym today, something which he’d said nothing about at all, until I didn’t believe his drunken lie.

But in a way, this would debaucle made me realize that he’s a sweetheart who would never admit I’m big but yet an asshole for trying to pick me up. But the experience guided me to my New Year’s Resolution…instead of concentrating on losing pounds so he can lift me I’m going to concentrate on picking up pounds, as in being able to pick him. Just because he is now banned from picking me up doesn’t mean I am going to not heft him up.

That’s right, feminism will win again, but damn I hope in the process I drop a few pounds…or he gets stronger…