So, being a ChubbO is not necessarily a physical state of being, although it can manifest itself around your hips, back, and stomach (and your armpits, armpit chub is the worst!). Being a ChubbO is more of a mindset. Even though I have lost a good number of pounds, anytime someone says the word donut, I pretty much jump and up and down and clap my hands like you just told me I won something. Even though I can fit in a decent size pair of jeans now, I can still be instantly cheered up just by the prospect of a delicious meal. And although I am (a smidge) happier with the way I look when I stand completely naked in front of my mirror, I can't deny that my appetite hasn't changed one bit. Perhaps the way I feed it has changed. I have learned to say no to The Belly when it growls at me; I have learned to reward The Belly because it deserves a good meal three times a day and not because I did something awesome; I have learned to tune The Belly out when it cries for the entire piece of tiramisu; and I have learned to tune in to The Belly when it needs something good and veggie-like. But despite this, my passion for food has not lost any weight. Being a ChubbO doesn't require a certain kind of food to be devoured. It is the joy and attitude in which you devour it that constitutes your eligiblity for ChubbOness. And so, I still consider myself a ChubbO, because it's from the inside out that we live our lives.
Alas, I've been getting some grief about the old blog handle (which is the cousin of my love handles). Now, I feel a bit uneasy changing up the title of my blog so frequently because it seemed only yesterday I was punching the keyboard and snarling as I wrote with The Rage. So, Rage in the AM had to go because although it's a nice feature and keeps popping up now and again, I didn't feel it was sufficient. And now perhaps I have outgrown ChubbO as well. (I may have shrunk, but my online persona has been inflated with every beautiful and tasty donut of a comment you leave here). So, instead of being all clever and stunning you with a fabulous new look and new title for the blog, I'm asking for your opinion (which I will probably ignore all together and do whatever I want because that's just how I roll. It's a Buckley woman thing and is why my father never offers opinions anymore, even when we ask for them). But anyway, I want to know what you think. Should I give ChubbO the axe? Should ChubbO fade into the woodwork and simply be a recurring theme that emerges every time I dream about a donut or eat my weight in kimchi bokkumbap? Or should it stay as it is because as the ManifestO clearly explains, you don't have to be chubby to be a ChubbO at heart.
And if it goes, along with those two inches and an entire cup size in my bra, what do I do now? Where do I go from here?