I heard this one again today. People seem convinced that I have some kind of eating disorder, and depending on the personality of the person involved, offer helpful advice, accusations, or in one case, a nice ham sandwitch.
Those people have never seen me eat. Ask the Farmparents, if you like.
Tonight, for dinner, I just finished a ten-ounce steak, a can of green beans, and half of a package of Lipton Noodle Sides. Not half a serving, half of the total amount produced. I'll finish off the rest of it in a few hours for a before-bed snack.
Yes, my metabolism is that high. Now imagine how I feel when I eat like that and step on the scales to find out that I've actually lost a pound.
Frustrating. There are times that I'm just not hungry, and I have to force myself to eat, lest I fall off my horse from fainting.
And then there are times that I eat like a pig, as evidenced tonight. And even during those times (sometimes especially) it seems like it's a constant battle to maintain my weight, which is low enough anyway that every time I go in for an annual check up, they test me for anemia.
I guess some people just have to find something wrong with everyone else, right off the bat. They don't give the person a chance to display their own faults, which people almost invariably do, they just pick something, and harp on it.
Fine, I'm skinny, and you feel that you're over weight. Tell you what, why don't you get off your butt and exercise, and I'll go over here and eat snack cakes and sit on my ass for a while. Eventually, one of our weight situations is bound to reverse itself, but I'll bet yours does before mine.
Aggravating, and funny, at the same time.
But Damn, that dinner was goooood.... I feel like a little piggy.