Being in love makes you fat

We all know that being in love (or being married, or living with our partners) makes us fat.

Piles of research and scores of articles have been done on it.

But it’s a really obvious phenomenon; we don’t need articles to tell us the hows and whys of it. Eating with a loved one is such an enjoyable activity that you center your life around it. You squeeze in as many meals and snack times as you can humanly endure and you often end up overeating.




So maybe having a long-distance relationship is a good thing.

Piers and I plan to see each other about six months a year (because that’s how long visitors are allowed to be in the UK) plus a bit more when he visits me in Singapore (which will be limited because of his work commitments).

It gives me time to diet when we’re apart.

I try to eat sensibly when I’m here with him but it’s an exercise in futility. We both enjoy food too much. We try to eat wholesome food as much as possible, but after, say, we’ve had a bowl of shredded wheat for breakfast, we feel like we need to reward ourselves with a bacon and egg bagel.

It gets to the point where we’re constantly counting down the minutes till we’re somewhat hungry (or not full anymore) and can eat or snack again.




It’s okay when the weather is cold and I can hide excess bulge under layers of clothes. But summer is approaching and I want to wear cute, sexy outfits without looking pregnant.

Piers is of the annoying species of primates who can stuff whole horses down their throats and not gain an ounce of weight. After some major binges during the first two months I was in England, he ended up just the same as when I’d first met him.




Me, I had to quit wearing a couple of my pants because they were squeezing the life out of me.

But it’s impractical for me to get a gym membership when I’m in each country only six months a year, alternate months. I would like to be rich. Then I wouldn’t have stupid concerns like that. I would have a gym membership in every major city in the world.

I don’t know who the idiot was who said money can’t buy happiness. It so can. With a regular income, I’ve been a lot happier in the last two years than I was five years ago when I was so broke that I had, like, a shopping budget of $100 a year.

But we’re talking about food. Food is very hard to resist. Especially when you can afford it. Especially when you’re in love.

Maybe some couples fall out of love after helping each other gain weight because they’re not attracted to each other anymore, which is quite tragic.

So, I’m eating a lot of marinated olives now. I just discovered I love them, and they’re readily available here and a plate of them are infinitely healthier than, say, a Big Mac.


Marinated olives


No. I’m not eating them as meals. Just for starters. But maybe they will balance up the Big Macs a bit.

Okay, I don’t really know what I’m going on and on about. I only know that I just won a two-hour battle with my will over a chocolate bar and now I am waiting for Piers to come home and take me out to dinner.

We’ve decided to eat out at a nice place tonight because, for lunch, we ate two-days-old leftover Thai food. I heated them on the stove and he drove home from work to eat them.

I don’t know what we’re going to do about this getting fat business. Or, rather, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Piers doesn’t need to do anything. He has a metabolic rate equaling that of the speed of a fighter jet.

Speaking of which, I realised early on that he is a human radiator (probably because of his metabolism). I mean that literally. Hugging him is like hugging a radiator except softer.

It’s very good for winter. Maybe not so good during the summer. I wish he’d turn into a human air-conditioner during the summer. But he’d hate bearing any similarities to Edward Cullen.

On the bright side of things, he bought me a fan!


Tower fan


Don’t laugh.

This is a very big deal.

English people have never heard of electric fans.

When it gets warm, they remove their clothes and open the windows.

So, I was very touched when he bought that tower fan just before I arrived because it was getting quite warm here and he knows Singaporeans likes their interiors cool, if not arctic.

Oh, I’m sorry. I digressed when I actually meant to end this entry.

Here’s a bigass photo of me to distract you.




Is it working?

Anyway, Piers is almost home and I need to get ready for dinner now.

Don’t think my food posts are going to stop any time soon. =P

4 thoughts on “Being in love makes you fat

  1. Avatar

    Go join fitness first platinum and you can go to any fitness first club in the world for free…

  2. Avatar

    Oh yes.. so very true. In my case like 7kg in 7 months at the beginning of our relationship. Still can’t shake any of them off.. ok maybe half a kg.. and my bf didn’t even pack an ounce!!!

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