I've never been a person who "dieted". It was always an evil word and an evil philosophy to me - starve yourself to fit into a certain size? No thanks, I'd rather have a cheeseburger. I abhorred the idea of being one of those girls who ate salads at every meal - I like salads, but they are the first course or the side dish that complements the REAL meal.
(Yes, yes, here comes the disclaimer - I've been tall and rather thin most of my life. Yes, I have nothing to complain about because I'm still within my BMI. But this is a blog, not an article on eating disorders in the Post, so I'm going to keep going.)
Until lately, that is. I have since become a quasi-dieter. I signed up for Weight Watchers a few weeks ago, to help lose some of the weight I gained with Belle and Baz. It's a good program, stressing small portions, lots of veggies and fruit and water, and they have lots of resources. I have been doing well - lost 7lbs. since June 21st. I've also been ramping up the exercise.
But the lazy person inside of me, who doesn't care if I get tired walking up stairs or if I have a huge bowl of ice cream before bed is annoyed with me. She reasons with me when I'm at my most vulnerable - early afternoon and after the kids are asleep. "Hey," she whispers. "There is ice cream in the freezer in the basement. It would taste SO good right now, while you're sitting in bed, watching True Blood. It would just be a little treat." Or driving around with the kids, running errands and driving past a favorite restaurant like California Tortilla or Red Robin and just not wanting to go home and make myself a healthy turkey sandwich with the awesome pears we just got at the store and a glass of milk. It's good, I love it, but somehow, it's just not as satisfying.
I'm all for healthy body image - losing 10-20lbs is not a life-and-death thing for me. I'll be ok if I'm this weight for the rest of my life, if I can at least control the landslide. :) It's also awesome to have a goal, like not having my child pull up my shirt, poke me in the belly and say, giggling, "Your tummy is squishy, Mommy," or to worry about whether or not I'm mooning the neighbors at our pool when I climb out after swimming with the family. It's frustrating that I'm so weak. Damn this human fallibility.