I've written about deeply personal topics on my website before, but this was harder to actually put out into the world because it's about something I've never really discussed with anyone, let alone the entire Internet. And, that's because this is about body issues, the way I viewed myself and, oddly enough, the relationship I had with food.

On the day my ovaries exploded, I was home alone at 7 a.m., crumpled face-first on my hardwood floor, unable to even make a sound because I was in so much pain.

The Friday before the Whole 30 began, I invited myself over to Zach's apartment as I sometimes do because I wanted to drink one glass of Spanish wine while I ate my Dos Toros bowl, a Chipotle-like concoction I would not be able to enjoy in its full capacity once our program began. I was very intent on staying for only one drink, but seeing as nothing ever goes as planned with Zach and I, I did not leave after one glass.

After too many vodka tonics and not enough food, that Friday night ended with me continuously and violently sobbing to Zach in a cab from the West Village to the Upper East Side about how "I think I'm too pretty to be this sad about a boy who wears camo cargo shorts."

On the first day of my self-proclaimed month-long hiatus from men, I woke up in a boy's bed...

...So, like, yeah, I guess you could say "No Boy April" did not begin with as strong of a start as I had originally hoped when I'd verbalized my decision to take a break from men to Serria and Zach just days before.

First, you'll make me afraid of losing you. For two months, three months, your calculated displays of affection will overjoy me, will keep me up at night with a smile as I remember the words you spoke, the kisses on my forehead, your hands pressed gently on my throat.

When Zach Groth and I both went through semi-devastating non-breakups within the same week of each other, we handled it as any mature adult in New York City would -- by attempting to drink $300 worth of wine while eating pizza rolls and making a four-hour long Spotify breakup playlist.

I think I lost five pounds the first day I joined Equinox, but I'm pretty sure that's less due to working out on their fancy machines and more because of how high my heart rate skyrocketed when I saw the actual cost of a year-long membership.

When I met Zach Groth's parents for the first time, they asked me what the best part of living in Manhattan was and the answer rolled off my tongue without effort or thought -- "Your son's job."

Zach and I moved to New York City within a few months of each other and both started out at different jobs than we currently have. I actually started at TIME the same week he started at his new job, so I'm sure there will be a grand celebration for our one-year work-aversary at probably (and by probably, I mean definitely) Barfly because we're both very lucky to have landed positions we genuinely enjoy.

In theory, my New Year's Resolution was simple -- each and every day, I wanted to write. Months or maybe even years ago, I'd purchased a simple, leather-bound black notebook. Aside from the occasional grocery list or jotted note on something I'd like to tell my pen pal, it went largely unused.

So, I started dating again.

Well... let me rephrase that. I tried to start dating again. It turns out it's really hard and not quite as fun as I remember, though that's likely because the last time I was dating multiple people it was because I wanted to, not because I had recently found out the guy I was seeing was also seeing other humans and then I too felt pressure to maximize my options.

The last time I cried over a boy was my senior year of college. In the middle of formal, my date decided to go home with one of my sorority sisters and, so, I traveled to Dill Street (RIP) where -- through my tears -- I intoxicatedly kissed Zach Groth, his identical twin brother AND the man who made me soup every day at the Atrium within the span of 35 seconds.

It was not my finest moment.