To the Man I Marry...

Considering that my previous post was about my fear of swelling up like a beach ball, whether through poor eating habits, a lethargic exercise regimen, or some tragic metabolic failure, I know this is going to sound like some straight bullshit, but I think I'm in love...with spaghetti w/fried fish on the side.  Go ahead. Judge me.
I'd first heard about this ridiculous combination of "main dishes" when I was a freshman in college, and met my neighbors from Memphis.  Well, I hadn't given it much thought until today, when I stumbled on a thread on Facebook about spaghetti.  Then someone mentioned fried fish on the side, and bam!  My dinner menu was planned.
I even went out and bought a fancy new electric deep fryer.  And let me tell you, deep fryers have come a long way since my grandma's Fry Daddy days.  No splattering.  No burnt oil.  No burnt food.  Lovely.
Well, long story short:  Yum and yum.  Not orgasmic *yum yum* but something to the effect of pleasantly pleasing *yum yum.*
Which brings me to a semi-unrelated-related note.  Although I haven't a clue who or where he is, I had such an enjoyable meal this evening, that I feel fairly certain that my future husband will be the man who makes me a meal of spaghetti and fried fish.
Yeah. Sounds like bullshit to me, too, but that's where my head is at right now.

*Nomnomnom*

But seriously. I could really use more of this in my life. 

Unreasonable Fear of Fatness

I have a very real, but unreasonable fear of being overweight.  Not just overweight, but obese, swollen, like a giant marshmallow, looking like I'm suffering from a permanent bad reaction to a bee sting. 

Unreasonable, because I'm fortunate enough not to have any physical health issues or restrictions that would prevent me from exercising and maintaining a healthy weight and attractive figure.
Unreasonable, because I've been thin, svelte, athletic, or moderately curvy for most of my life.  Unreasonable, because I'm genetically blessed and predisposed to having a small-medium frame.

But very real because I'm very lazy.  Very real, because in the last two years, I've gone from a curvy size 12 to a voluptuous size 16, and no one seems to have noticed but me.  People tell me that I look good, and no one notices or knows that none of my old clothes fit, because I'm wearing all new ones.

I'm about to retire from the Army within the next few months, and I really don't like exercising.  Truth is, I never have, but soon, very soon, I won't have to.  That's the rub.

As much as I know and appreciate the physical, emotional and psychological benefits of exercise and endorphins, and a healthy diet, I am not ever excited about any of it.  I'm rarely ever motivated to move more than necessary.  I'm kind of ashamed of that.

And worst of all, I don't want to be living a swollen life.  God help me. I've got to find my motivation.  Vanity is not it.