The Girl Playbook · Vol. 4 · Bloating & Digestion
Remember when you could button your jeans at 6pm the same way you did at 7am, without a bloated belly in between?
Vol. 4 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
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They were the dark pair with the soft knees, and they’d come out of the dryer on Sunday still warm and ready for a day that wouldn’t ask you to loosen them by 3pm.
You hopped into them at the foot of the bed with one hand braced on the dresser, and the button slid through on the first try while the coffee was still brewing.
The radio on the counter was halfway through the traffic report, and you hummed the jingle that came after it.
You took the chipped blue mug down from the shelf and filled it to a finger below the rim.
The mirror got one glance for your hair and one swipe of a thumb at a smudge of mascara, and then you flicked off the light without a sideways look.
At 6pm the same jeans closed over the same spot on the same hook, while the pasta water came to a boil and the smell of garlic made you hungry.
Remember when you could button your jeans at 6pm the same way you did at 7am, without a bloated belly in between and no puffy waistline to hide by dinner?
At the holiday dinner you stayed in your seat for seconds and a big slice of pecan pie, then dealt the cards and played until 10pm.
On the flight you slid into the middle seat between a stranger with a crossword and a teenager with headphones, and you let the teenager have the armrest.
At the family reunion you stood in the front row for the group picture right after the big lunch, in the yellow sundress, with nothing held in.
You didn’t have to choose the seat nearest the restroom, or wait for the shower to run so no one would hear.
Back then, the bottom drawer at the office held a box of staples and a mug no one had claimed since March, and no stretchy pair waiting for 2pm.
Your purse held a lipstick, your phone and a pen, and no list of safe foods folded into the zipper pocket.
Remember when you said yes to dinner first and figured out the menu later, because bloating never crossed your mind?
You used to say YES…
Yes - to dinner out on a Tuesday, before you’d asked what was being served…
Yes - to the road trip, the diner with the spinning stools, and the peach pie…
Yes - to the red top with the scoop neckline on a Friday night, no matter how much dinner followed…
Yes - to the potluck sign-up sheet, before you’d read a single line of it…
Yes - to seconds at your parents’ Sunday table, roast and potatoes and apple pie…
Yes - to the lake house weekend with nothing stretchy in the bag…
It used to be…
You could eat what you liked and forget about it by the time the plates were cleared.
You could feel completely spontaneous.
You could feel completely confident.
You could feel like yourself… easy… hungry in the good way… out the door in your favorite jeans with the button done up.
You didn’t have to undo the top button of your jeans by 3pm… skip lunch at work… or hold the gas in until you could sneak away.
You didn’t have to keep 2 wardrobes, your normal clothes and your “my belly’s doing it again” clothes…
And you didn’t have to weigh the fiber, the portion, the stress and the hormones after an ordinary lunch, wondering which one deserved the blame.
You never had to wait for the shower to run so no one would hear…
…or time your evening around who was in the next room.
You didn’t have to dread the afternoon rumbling.
The end seat used to be just another seat…
…and a lovely, QUIET restaurant was somewhere you hoped your friends would pick.
Your lunch, your waistband and your evening were just your lunch, your waistband and your evening.
You didn’t have to start another elimination diet on Monday.
A weekend away, a dinner invitation or a road trip didn’t come with a plan for your stomach.
You didn’t have to wonder whether “my stomach’s just awful” was all you’d ever be able to say about it.
And these days all you ever hear is, “Eat more fiber.”
Along with more water, less dairy, a cleanse, and another thing to remember…
And if you’re bloated by dinner anyway, repeating the advice doesn’t explain much.
But what if “more” isn’t enough to explain the choice?
What if the kind of fiber you’re adding deserves a closer look?
Inside Bloated by Dinner, the fiber discussion gives that distinction its own attention…
…and the Reintroduction Worksheet helps you explore what belongs back on your plate.
If your jeans fit differently by evening and your list of safe foods keeps getting shorter, then this new book is a MUST read before you cross off another food…
Before you add another spoonful and hope this is finally the one your belly agrees with…
Before you skip lunch at work to keep your waistband comfortable…
Before you pack the stretchy pants for another weekend away…
Remember when dinner was just dinner…
Your friend texted the name of the place, and you wrote back “see you at 7” from the grocery line.
And when the hostess waved at a table in the middle of the dining room, you pulled out the chair and sat down.
Back then nothing was holding you back…
…no hand drifting down to the top button…
…and you were in the group photo, front row, laughing, so you never felt left out of the best part of the night…
In those days you never had to study a menu 2 days ahead for something safe.
Never had to tuck a looser outfit in the car just in case.
Never had to push your plate away early.
You could curl up on the couch with your partner under the heavy wool blanket from the hall closet after a big dinner, with nothing to unbutton and nowhere else you’d rather be.
A printed educational guide, not personal medical advice. Use its explanations and worksheets to prepare informed questions for a qualified health professional.
Bloated by Dinner
Vol. 4 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
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It’s strange how a life can get smaller without anyone meaning for it to.
And perhaps the saddest part is how easily you can get used to it.
You make your adjustments.
You find your excuses.
You tell yourself it’s just a bit of bloating.
But it does matter.
The dinners out matter.
The road trips matter.
The afternoons you spend doing something just because it makes you happy matter.
And somewhere along the way, perhaps you’ve forgotten that you matter just as much.
Wouldn’t it be nice to order the dish you’re craving?
It was the one with the creamy sauce and the little green flecks on top, the one you’d been picturing since the car.
The paper menu had a ring on it from somebody else’s glass, and your finger slid past the plain grilled chicken to the third line and stopped.
Your friend across the table said “get it” before you could say you were getting it.
You tore a piece of bread in half and used the heel of it to get the last of the sauce.
Then the 2 of you ordered one slice of chocolate cake and 2 forks.
You walked out into the cool air with your coat hanging open.
Think of a hotel breakfast buffet and a man named Gus.
Steam rose from the chafing dishes, and the room smelled like bacon and maple syrup.
Gus wore a tall white hat, and he cracked an egg one-handed while he waited for your order.
You said all of it, even the extra cheese, and held your plate out in both hands.
You carried it back to a table by the window with a pastry balanced on the rim.
Your friend was already there with her feet up on the empty chair, and she stole a strip of your bacon.
The waitress topped off your coffee in its thick white mug before you asked.
There was a time when you signed the potluck sheet before you read it.
The flyer had been taped to the mailbox at the end of the street since Tuesday, with a little sun drawn in the corner.
You wrote your name in the loopy hand you saved for birthday cards, then saw that 3 people had already claimed the rolls.
You carried the casserole in wrapped in a towel and set it down beside the deviled eggs, each one dusted with paprika.
The potato salad had little pickles in it, so you went back twice.
You balanced your paper plate on your knee in a folding chair in the shade while the kids ran through the sprinkler.
Bloated by Dinner
Vol. 4 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
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- Please allow 7–10 business days for delivery.
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You used to stay until the end of the party.
Coats piled up on the bed in the back bedroom, and you were the last one to go looking for yours.
At midnight the host stood in the doorway with a dish towel over her arm and said “stay a little.”
So you did, and she poured the last of the coffee into 2 mismatched cups.
Someone always had to ask you twice to leave, and it was usually the host, with a grin.
Your stomach never once asked to go home.
Picture the 2pm budget review after a big turkey sandwich.
The sandwich was on rye, and you gave the pickle to the guy from accounting and ate every crumb of the bread.
You sat through the meeting with your knees crossed and tapped a pen against your notes.
The pencil skirt stayed smooth until you left the building, with no hook to undo.
At 5:30pm the elevator opened onto the lobby, and the security guard said “have a good one,” and you said “you too” and meant it.
Remember when your sister called about Sunday dinner?
You were folding towels on the bed with the phone tucked against your shoulder.
She said Sunday at 4 and started in on parking, and you were already marking the calendar by the fridge.
It was a free one from the pharmacy, with a lighthouse for October and no little notes in the squares about which foods to skip.
Her kids shouted hello from somewhere behind her, and you shouted hello right back.
Do you miss being the friend who always said “I’ll drive”?
Your friends threw their bags in the trunk and called shotgun in 3 different voices.
A hand reached over from the passenger seat for the bag of snacks on the console, and you didn’t mind one bit.
The pie sign was hand-lettered and promised peach, and everyone in the car said “peach” at the same time.
Lunch was at a diner with a bell on the door, and you spun on a stool at the counter.
At the next rest stop you all bought the same lemonade and drank it standing around the car.
Bloated by Dinner
Vol. 4 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
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- Please allow 7–10 business days for delivery.
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Think back to Thanksgiving with a towel over your shoulder.
The turkey was down to a carcass on the platter and the pies were down to wedges, and you’d eaten your share of both.
Your aunt washed and you dried, while a football game murmured from the TV in the next room.
You stacked the good plates in the cupboard with the gold edges facing out.
Someone cracked the window to let the steam out, and the cold air smelled like leaves.
By the time the last pot went onto the rack it was dark outside, and you were still telling stories at the counter.
When was the last time you walked the loop around the block after dinner?
The air smelled like cut grass and somebody’s charcoal grill.
A man on a porch lifted a hand, and you lifted yours back.
You passed the same 4 mailboxes you’d passed 1,000 times, and your pace never changed.
The sky over the water tower went from peach to the color of a plum while you walked.
There was a time when you took the folding chair in the middle of the third row.
It was the school play, and the gym smelled like floor wax and the popcorn the PTA was selling by the door.
When a family needed 4 seats together, you scooted over 1 chair without a second thought.
Your granddaughter was the third sheep from the left, and she waved at you in the middle of her only line.
You clapped so hard your palms stung, and you stayed for the cookies on the paper plates afterward.
It used to be that a fitted dress was just a dress.
It hung on the back of the bedroom door, the green one with the tiny belt that buckled at the same hole every time.
At 6:30pm you reached over your shoulder and zipped it up yourself, catching the tab on the first try.
Your friend’s headlights swept across the ceiling, and she tapped the horn twice.
The hallway mirror got a glance from the front and none from the side, and you were out the door.
Bloated by Dinner
Vol. 4 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
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- Please allow 7–10 business days for delivery.
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Back then, Friday night meant pizza on the living room rug.
From the kitchen someone hollered “extra cheese,” and someone else hollered “no olives.”
The delivery guy came up the walk 40 minutes later, and your brother paid him in exact change from a coffee can.
The TV played a movie everybody had seen, and you all recited the lines a half second early.
You folded the second slice in half the way you always did, and the cheese stretched in a long string until you bit it off.
Remember when you danced at the wedding until the band played the last song?
The band was 5 men in matching vests, and by the second set you’d kicked your shoes under a chair.
You gave one slow number to the groom’s grandfather, who led with great ceremony and counted the steps under his breath.
The singer leaned into the mic and said “one more for the road,” as if he hadn’t already said it twice.
You groaned happily and went right back out.
A cheer went up from the cousins by the cake table, and you cheered right back.
Imagine being able to tie the strings of a coral bikini and walk straight out to the balcony.
The hotel mirror had a gold frame with little cherubs in the corners, and it got one glance.
The balcony door slid open with a whoosh, and a warm wind pushed the curtains out behind you.
Below, a man in a straw hat raked the sand into stripes before the crowds arrived.
Later you waded in up to your waist and floated on your back with your ears underwater, and everything sounded like a party in the next town.
Picture a stack of pancakes going down the kitchen counter, all gone by 9am.
The grandkids passed the platter hand over hand, and you took a tall stack.
The syrup sat in a pan of hot water so it would pour, and it came out in a long amber thread.
The toaster was still popping for the stragglers when you went back for seconds.
The youngest climbed onto the stool beside you with sticky fingers and asked for the last one, and you split it with her.
Bloated by Dinner
Vol. 4 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
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- Please allow 7–10 business days for delivery.
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Can you still see yourself at the afternoon movie on a weekday?
The popcorn came in a bucket the size of a hatbox, and the popcorn man added a second squirt of butter because you asked.
The red curtain drew back at 2:10pm, and the room let out a happy sigh.
A boy at the candy counter had debated gummy bears with the seriousness of a judge, and you’d bought yours in a second.
Your fingers were buttery to the wrist, so you wiped them on a napkin and then on your jeans.
When the lights came up you walked out into a bright parking lot with an hour to spare before dinner, and room for it.
Do you miss Saturday morning at the end of the dock?
You’d slept in the bottom bunk at your friend’s lake house and woken up to the screen door slapping and the smell of bacon.
She handed you a mug that said World’s Okayest Fisherman, with coffee strong enough to hold up a spoon.
A pair of ducks paddled by in a line, and she named them after 2 of her neighbors.
You let your feet hang in the water until a minnow nudged your toe.
Her little radio played something slow from 20 years ago, and neither of you moved to change it.
You used to get ready for a date in 10 minutes flat.
A fitted silk top the color of cream, your best dark jeans and the good boots lay in a row on the quilt.
Your phone buzzed once on the nightstand, and the message said see you at 7.
The only thing fluttering in your stomach was excitement.
You’d picked the place for its pasta and its little corner table, and the waiter lit the candle with a long match.
Your date said they’d gotten there early and tried the olives already, and you traded a smile for the last one.
When was the last time you turned off the porch light at 10:30pm and went to bed full and happy?
The last cousin left through the kitchen door with a foil-covered plate in each hand.
The porch swing creaked once in the wind as the last pair of headlights backed down the driveway.
You rinsed 2 glasses and left everything else for the morning.
The quilt on the bed was cool for a second and then it wasn’t, and you fell asleep still smelling a little of cinnamon.
Bloated by Dinner
Vol. 4 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
- Free shipping
- Please allow 7–10 business days for delivery.
30-day, no-questions-asked money-back guarantee