ugh, not again

I gained five pounds and Big Dave laughs.  He counts body weight in five-pound increments and on his six-foot frame, my weight gain is the same as an extra handkerchief and car keys in his pocket.  For me it means a bigger pants size.  All  I ever wanted was to be tall.  I didn't care about hair color or the ability to tan quickly, I just wanted height. I wanted length between my hips and bosom, an hour glass of svelte curves, a real waistline with a belt that wouldn't disappear into my belly when I sat.
Instead I got good hair color and the ability to tan quickly.  I'm wondering how a weight gain could happen as I have upped my exercise routine to ninety minutes every day with the warm weather returning.   Muscle weighs more than fat and this must explain the gain. Hah, like many, I am in denial regarding my body and if you don't believe me, check out those roly-poly teens in skin-tight tees strolling the mall. There must be no mirrors in their houses. You can be big and fashionably correct but these kids didn't get the memo.

I hang out with a three-year-old girl and we frequently find ourselves in places that sell french fries. And here comes Easter and the grandchild likes the chocolate bunny suckers at Walgreen's and then there's peeps and those unbelievable malted milk ball eggs with hard speckled coating.   I have made many girl scouts happy this season with purchases of numerous boxes of mint cookies and yes, I know they freeze well, but they never make it that far in my house.
Sonny comes for dinner often and normally I do not eat dinner although I will throw a pork chop and potato at Dave occasionally.  So now I am making multiple courses as well as cream puffs and apple pie because anyone who knows my father, knows he's a dessert man. The cook needs to sample, and that she does.
The last health article I read said women my age need to do one hour strenuous exercise daily to maintain their current weight.  So, if we need to lose weight, well, you do the math. I should  stop reading health literature.  I never read those articles when I was flabby, unmotivated and smoking because they were too depressing.  I think I was happier back then.
So that  kills the lunch to the Indian restaurant for spinach crepes with creamed curry sauce.  A bowl of wheat chex lightly sweetened will have to do.