It happens to all of us at one time or another: You’re on a reality TV show because you’re grossly overweight and they put you on an exercise regimen to shed your spare pounds. Then one day your doctor (who doesn’t use his last name) brings you to a table and shows you a gelatinous amoeba-shaped object. This, he tells you, is the body fat you have lost over the course of the program. You’re repulsed at first, obviously. You don’t even want to touch it. You just stare, with your mouth open, then you instinctively close your mouth for fear that this glob of blubber will leap off the table and down your throat, becoming one with your belly again. At the insistence of Dr. Rob, you eventually take hold of the fat. It’s not as light as it looks—maybe it weighs a little less than a baby. You hold the fat in front of your eyes and think, “I lost a baby’s weight in fat.” This makes you feel awesome. You cradle the weight and look at Dr. Rob with tears welling in your eyes. Dr. Rob smiles and nods, and then he asks you for the fat back so that you can go have your lentil soup for lunch.

It seems too easy to be parted from your excess body fat, but you sit over your soup with lentils added like seasoning to the watery broth and you find your thoughts turn back to it. For something you had been carrying around for so many years, that was quite a brief encounter on the patio. You try to think of what it looked like. That amber hue, the glistening surface, and that faint resemblance to gefilte-fish jelly that your grandmother used to make for those big Passover meals. You get wistful, and even wonder why Dr. Rob needs your body fat. Does he have a closet of this stuff or something? Why can’t you keep it? What’s this guy’s fucking deal with other people’s body fat?

Stop yourself now. Whatever growing feelings of amore may be churning inside you, you must resist the charms of your gelatinous excised body fat.

Body fat is a terrible lover. Sure, it is soft, pliable, and warm against your body, but it’s heartless. It won’t cuddle in bed, and it doesn’t even know what spooning is. When you walk away, it stares coldly after you. Body fat doesn’t just come into a relationship with baggage. It is baggage. It will weigh you down. You’ll find yourself more lethargic, tired all the time, and unable to concentrate. Excess body fat doesn’t understand supportive relationships. It isn’t into you for your mind. It just wants your body, and that’s only because your body will feed it. Excess body fat is clingy. You never get a moment alone. It doesn’t want to hang out with your friends. The guys at work will make fun of your excess body fat when you’re not around. They will say it has got you whipped, that you can’t meet anyone else because you’re stuck with it. You’re too good for excess body fat, and you know it.

You may have come to this conclusion yourself, but if you’re still attached to your fat, now’s the time to do something about it. Free yourself. Tell your body fat that you’ve grown and you realize it just isn’t what you need right now. It’s OK to reminisce about the good times, but don’t get all mushy and nostalgic so you’ll lose your nerve. Be firm, because your body fat definitely won’t. Look your body fat in those weird air bubbles caught in between that are too misaligned to be eyes and say it’s over. Once your body fat is out the door, you’ll know you’ve done the right thing. Now don’t try to rebound and start something with that lentil soup back in the kitchen. That tramp will go through you in 30 minutes.