Dear D,

I’d be lying if I said your story didn’t make me hungry. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a hot dog, let alone two. Although, from the looks of me, you’d think I eat them all the time; so much so that I no longer have a “muffin top” in my jeans, but an Egg McMuffin top – make that a Sausage McMuffin top (btw, merely typing the word “sausage” made me salivate).

It’s gotten so bad that I’ve stopped searching for my “fat jeans” and now look for my “fat underwear” - which has lead to another problem: laundry and having to do it more often to make sure my “uniform” is clean. Luckily I’m in France where the rule on wearing a fresh outfit each day isn’t as rigid.

If things continue, I might have to ask F if I can cheat on him and get back together with my confidence-destroying, soul-gutting ex. That seems to be the only “diet” that has ever really worked for me (that and losing a tooth). However, given that today is our 6 year anniversary, I'm not sure it's a good time to ask if he'd like to take a break.

Love, A