You know, I joke about eating all of the time. So does that model Gisele, but it is much funnier when she does it.

Take a joke about eating an entire pie. When she does it everyone probably tilts their heads and laughs, “She’s so funny. Where did all that pie go?”

With me, they are staring at my butt, saying, “Oh yeah, I see it. There’s the pie, right there. Dutch apple, and a la mode, too?”

It wasn’t always like this. I actually did workout videos instead of eating brownies and laughing at the sweaty people. I actually was one of those sweaty skinny people.

Those women, with their perfect abs and steely buns, were my sisters. We counted down together, making our muscles cry out for their mommies.

I also made better food choices.

There used to be a skinny woman that lived inside of me and she would whisper things to me right before I grabbed something I shouldn’t.

She was truly a visionary and she believed in me even though I did little to earn it. Her fat-free hopes and low-cal dreams caused her to do irritating things, like when she made me feel bad about eating a pan of brownies while writing an article called “Diet Tips.”

Then she argued with me when I attempted to add Ding Dongs and Mountain Dew to the pyramid as an official food group. I gave in to temptation meal by meal, pizza by pizza, donut by donut, well you get it. Until, finally I had fully turned to the dark side — namely hot fudge.

Suddenly my skinny girl was gone, and she took with her all our pants with buttons and the dream of ever feeling good about leggings with ankle boots.

Honestly, I miss her.

She smiled for the camera and fearlessly marched back to the dressing room with that crazy orange and blue jumpsuit. She held her head up high upon meeting new people, and when she sat down in freshly washed jeans it was like she had worn them all day long.

I have also noticed other relationships waning since her departure. The My Fitness Pal App and I were once pretty tight, but lately, the connection has become visibly strained.

Every day I get a phone notification from the app reminding me to log all my calories, but one day as I was about to clear the daily reminder I noticed it looked a little different.

“These reminders don’t seem helpful,” it read. “We will stop sending them now so they don’t bother you.”

Ouch — just like that — My Fitness Pal broke up with me.

Even though I can’t even remember the last time I actually counted my calorie intake, it was nice to know that My Fitness Pal still cared.

I guess it was just one of those relationships where we both knew it was over for a while but neither wanted to actually say it. I haven’t the heart yet to uninstall it. Maybe this was my rock bottom, though.

Maybe it was just what I needed to see how far I have fallen.

Now at close to 40 pounds heavier than my skinny girl, I question everything I do. I publicly lost weight while social media cheered me on, and now the crowds are silent as family pictures show a slow progression of the pounds piling back on.

I know they see it — they are just too nice to point it out. I think I will do it for them and put a sign around my neck to wear in public.

“Pie was here. Yes — a la mode, too.”

Really, my weight gain comes with great conviction.

This constant conflict between myself and food really shows me that self-control is the key to living a balanced life.

So in days to come, I am going to start making better choices — but this time I have to do it without my skinny girl but in pursuit of her. Then I am going to change her name to my healthy girl. Because that's what really matters.

Honestly, I think she misses me too. She is said to wander the produce aisle at night, crying into the Brussels sprouts.

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