Today I am jumping on the body issues posting train.

I’ve read a bunch of them lately. Most recently, Emily’s post about regaining her pre-baby body. (Which, props to her – she exercises EVERY DAY, which is something I haven’t accomplished since, well, ever.)

I think it’s only natural to think more about one’s body during the summer months, when everyone is running around in shorts and tank tops and there’s lots of skin and nowhere for The Flab to hide. And in particular, it’s hard to ignore this topic after having traveled to and from Florida, where it seems that people wear a lot less clothing than they do here in the North. In the airport, for instance, I saw a lot more boobage and leggage and back skin and tummy flesh than I would ever be comfortable displaying… let alone while in an airport (which is freezing) or on an airplane (which – ick – has hosted thousands of people and their own bodies, many of which were probably sweating because the airplane – despite being around 35 degrees during the flight – usually operates at a sweltering 175 degrees while on the ground).

So anyway, these past few weeks I have been noticing some disturbing trends in my own body. Yes, I can technically fit into all my clothes. But I have noticed that my grad school jeans* are much comfier, and they actually fit a tiny bit loosely, which makes me feel better about myself. (This may be one reason that I love wearing Husband’s scrub pants to lounge around the house. They are so ginormous that I feel teeny-weeny inside them. Yay for denial!)

Also, whenever I catch a glimpse of my rear in the mirror, I get The Thong Song stuck in my head. (Not because I am wearing a thong, but because I have what Sisqo refers to as “dumps like a truck, truck, truck.” Yet somehow not as sexy as those of the chicks in the video.)

Worse, while changing in a Nordstrom dressing room, I noticed that my stomach is boasting some serious cellulite. I did not know this could happen, Internet. It was an unpleasant discovery.

But this isn’t meant to be a catalog of all my bodily shortcomings.

For the most part, I’m okay with how I look. And I’m one of the lucky people who can eat pretty much whatever I want – with some notable exceptions ** – without seeing a huge difference in weight or fat distribution.

But lately I’m getting more and more upset by how I’m treating this body of mine.

Let’s ignore, for the moment, the lack of exercise. I’m working on that, albeit in baby steps.

I’m talking mainly about food.

I love food. And I love a lot of good foods – fresh veggies, berries, lean meats, beans. When I was a kid, I would ride the bus home from school and make myself a salad for an after school snack. Not because I was weight- or diet-conscious, but because I LOVE ME SOME SALAD.

But lately, I’ve been under a huge amount of stress. And I am a Stress Eater Extraordinaire. Of course, when I am stressed out, and looking for something to nibble on***, I am not interested in the crisp leafy lettuce in my fridge… or the unopened package of omega-3 rich tuna fish sitting in the pantry… or the lovely ripe avocado on my counter… or the bag of baby carrots in the crisper… or any of the perfectly delicious and healthy foods lying around our apartment.

No. I want pasta. And pizza. And macaroni and cheese. And ice cream. And brownies. And grilled cheese. And potato chips. And chips and salsa. And nachos. And more pizza.

Dear god, Internet, the pizza… I am addicted. It’s so so so easy to buy a frozen pizza and pop it in the oven and then shovel steaming triangles of crisp, buttery crust and melty cheese and crunchy pepperoni into my mouth.

When I have a little time, I make pizza myself. It’s not rocket science. (Pour a can of Hunt’s tomato sauce into a small pot. Add half a tomato sauce can of water. Stir in a couple of teaspoons of sugar and generous amounts of cayenne pepper. Boil, cool, and voila.  Spoon sauce onto a flour tortilla or a crust from a box. Add shredded cheese, pepperoni, and sliced veggies. Pop into a 450 degree oven for 5 to 10 minutes. Remove, slice, eat.)

The homemade pizzas are smaller and about 10,000 times healthier for me than the frozen pizzas. (Seriously. When Husband and I did a stint on Weight Watchers – where I lost a good 15 pounds – I was able to eat these homemade pizzas just fine.) But they require ingredients. Chopping. Forethought. Plus – while they can be delicious and satisfying – when I am really in super-stress mode, they don’t do the trick quite like the Red Baron Classic Crust version.

Like I said, I have no trouble eating well most of the time. But stress has ramped up quite a bit recently, and pizza has become more of a staple in my apartment than an occasional indulgence.

And – while I certainly wouldn’t be pleased about ballooning up – I’m not so much concerned for my weight as I am for my general health. My comfort foods of choice are usually chock full of salt and preservatives and sugar and chemicals.

There ARE healthy comfort foods out there. Or, at least, not ridiculously UN-healthy. For instance, two of my faves are pasta with meat sauce and chicken paprikas – hot, spicy, and carb rich. Not jam-packed with saturated fat and tons of chemicals.  But they take a looooong time to prepare.

So aside from being tasty and comforting and healthy, I need my comfort foods to be quick.

Is this a pipe dream, Internet? Does anything like this exist? Is my only hope to cut down on the stress? (Which I realize is a good goal in and of itself anyway.)

If anyone has a go-to comfort food, I’d love to hear about it.

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* Grad school is what I privately refer to as the “puff years.”

** During the aforementioned grad school puffy era, I ate copious amounts of cookie dough and microwave popcorn drenched in butter. Not even the best metabolism can cope with that.

*** Who am I kidding? “Scarf down like this is my last meal and I haven’t eaten since Bush Senior was President” is a more accurate way to describe my munching habits.