So….over the past three months, about a few times a week, some jackass will ask if I am pregnant. The answer is “no, I’ve just been drinking a lot of beer”. There are several responses to this statement:
“Gosh, I am a jackass. I just thought, well, you’re so SMALL and you look so….. [silence]”
“Oh, it’s just that you look so much BETTER! HEALTHY-ER!” [see emphasis]”
“But you work out like a dog! I don’t get that…”
“How much beer ARE you drinking?” [muttered with a judging eye]
Immediately, although I am armed with a slew of wonderful rational thoughts that my BMI used to be dreadfully wanting, and that I am quite capable of not equating the term
“healthy” with “fat” immediately, I feel ashamed….gross….as if I have failed at something.Because, really, if you are going to have a belly, the only “good excuse” is that there’s a baby in there. Not that you plunged into a birth control and are happily slopping up new sips and eats because you have more fullness, vigor, love and life overall coarsing through your buzzed veins.
I’ve always been a wine woman. Sinful Zins, Chewy Cabs, Ravishing Riojas, and Smoky Syrahs. Living in Germany opened a tiny admiration for trocken whites and bashful provenance roses. It was only 9 months ago that a certain very special someone always twiddled his nature into my heart, and its in my nature to SHARE…so with him, came a search for beer….good beer.
Now, some guys can seriously rock a beer belly. But not many… Homer and Fred Flinstone do NOT gets my toes a-tapping, mind you. And although there will be a pause before most people name women with soft bellies who ROCK it, to be honest, I tend to get jealous of WOMEN like those named by men….women who no doubt rock soft bellies. (Scarlett Johansen, ..until we come up with a list of the “hottest women on earth
In the past 30 minutes generating these thoughts, I’ve managed to sip away at TWO beers. ALONE….First, I am in Bavaria for work, and if you want to know a secret, my first German beer was in Munich, and I attach significance and taste to that. Second, gosh, I think part of the drinking is a sense of rebellion…against the naysayers who make us believe that drinking is UNHEALTHY and ultimately, fattening. In fact, there is a silver lining in this after all. Over numerous studies, research proves that alcohol consumers weight significantly LESS than their energy intake would suggest….the beer belly is a myth
I am, and will always, favor numbers over mass assumptions. But that is not why I am drinking. Here are TOP BENEFITS of having a beer belly
1) You get to buy new underwear… Frilly hot purple ones. Soft, expandable boy short ones, humorous Smurf ones. And
2) You don’t miss the bagels or chips and salsa that are next to nonexistent in Germany. You switch one carb, for another…the fermented kind.
3) You can feel holier than thou….the best beer TODAY in the world is made by monks in Belgium…that’s a given. But through the course of time, the holy people and the emperors drank beer while wine was for the peasants.
4) Your trophy of expanded tolerance is highly visible to all. You can easily strut your accomplishments and there’s no framing involved.
5) Easily weeds out potential suitors shallow suitors who claim to be attracted to your keen ability to pick up stolen shakespeare quotes in popular music and movies
6) The belly is evidence of your body, announcing that it is sexual, pliable, present in each and every moment….wanted, as it is….loving what it loves.
Honestly? The beer belly is a myth. It is witty comeback to other people noticing a change in me. And Sure, this change is overall, welcomed. Life shifting. Oh, so, Special. But also, challenges me.
The weight gain is not because I’ve been over indulgent with the ethanol or lax on the physical activity (there’s been plenty of that) …it’s due to an influx of hormones and long over due nourishment of the simpliest kind.
I am sharing.
And that’s the best Special K Treatment of all.