I am the only person I know who gains weight while doing more. In this case, all the sorting, lugging, and lifting stuff in the hot sun to move out of my house. I don’t eat as much, nor drink as much water, and yet…I gain weight.
About 13 year ago I moved to this house. I remember the same scenario. I worked so much harder than usual, and ate and drank so much less, I thought I would have dropped a lot of weight. I GAINED weight. That’s a really shitty bonus when you are already aggravated by moving.
My theory is that my body is in fight or flight mode. It’s saying:
Uh…what the fuck is happening? Why am I moving so much when my whole existence is geared toward homeostasis…zen…nirvana searching?
Thirsty over here! Where’s my baby Aspirin and old lady vitamin? I ate a puny sandwich. Now I’m full! Nauseated, in fact. Better eat something tastier. Oh, I was wrong. Now I’m REALLY sick. I crave salt. (eat chips) Now I crave sugar (eat gumdrops)
Where’s my meditation and hypnosis?
Better bulk up. Retain fluid. Get ready for…whatever it is that’s happening. I may need to roll down a hill or something and protect myself with padding.
RELAX body. You have never, ever, needed to roll down a hill. R E L A X God damn it! You’re such a drama queen. You’re just going to sleep, eat, shower and drink coffee in a new environment. Oh, and you have to pack up all this shit and take it with you.
Usually, when it’s all over, I return to where I started. Weight-wise, that is. Will that happen this time?
Take a Xanax, body. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.