A Woman's Weight (or wait)

A woman’s weight, a treacherous topic to navigate, tantamount to discussing the advantages of western attire and hair/face exposure to a group of Islamic extremists considering a jihad on the infidel.
The best advice I can proffer to the unwitting male so queried by his partner “do I look like I have gained weight”
· Develop a sudden onset of laryngitis
· Shake your head emphatically side to side and exit the room slowly
· Grab your passport and set your car GPS to the nearest border town, Canada or Mexico, whatever is closest
In all seriousness, women are as fickle about body image and weight as a dog debating a chew stick vs. a left over steak bone. One day we are on top of the world, as our skinny jeans fit just a little bit looser on our already narrow hips, thereby providing a waiver to eat the 99 cent monster taco combo deal at Jack in the box. The next day, sodium overload produces the ever torturous “cankles”, the inability to twist or pull our rings over our swollen knuckles, and forget the skinny jeans, as they wouldn’t budge past our knee caps let alone our now cellulitic ridden thighs. (That mind you amazingly gained seven inches of extra skin overnight due to one high calorie consumption). Even a mere three pound weight gain can render the most stalwart of creatures depressed and housebound, her body image distorted to the point of glimpsing a big, fat moon face staring back in the mirror, atop a grotesque mound of human flesh that was once a lithe body. And of course this is not the true perception, but our distorted view as a result of a miniscule weight gain. And we wonder why men avoid those loaded weight questions. When you know you top the scale by several pounds above your fighting weight, eliciting an emotional and traumatic response on heart and spirit, relegating us to depressed self esteem and vacillating mood swings that would scare the devil in their ferocity, why would you then subject your partner to the age old question, “do I look fat?” that has no right answer. If in an attempt to assuage your negativity he volunteers that you look “skinny”, you then accuse him of a dishonest betrayal tantamount to adultery or murder. And bless his heart, if he chooses honesty, and comments on your slight weight gain, offering diet tips from the goodness of his simple heart, he might as well buy the pistol, load it with uber bullets and shoot himself in the foot, or better yet blow his proverbial brains out, thus preventing the plotting and completion of his demise by your semi irrational mind and logic.
Ladies, if you are feeling fat, close the bedroom door, obsessively try on your skinny jeans and force them over your hips, ignore the ripping seams and delude yourself that you really are the same weight. Or better yet, slap on your cross trainers and hit the road. You can lose a pound or two of water weight with forty minutes of cardio. For gosh sakes, do! Not! Ask! Your! Man! If! You! Look! Fat! Trust that the prison sentence provided as a result of your violent reaction to his response is not worth the affect. And until men are given scripted responses to correctly answer all of our semi irrational questions regarding body image or appearance, leave him to his channel surfing and call a friend, or your psychic.