Fatty pants

I find it rather pleasant that I don't own a bathroom scale. If I did, I imagine that I would be constantly weighing myself...constantly preoccupied with my image...and probably constantly trying to stop eating dark chocolate (which would be quite a feat if I ever did manage to give that up, I must admit!). For these reasons, and for laziness of not ever going out and actually remembering to buy one, I don't have one anywhere near my current place of residence. If I gain weight, my clothes will tell me (obviously), and if I lose it, my jeans will fall off. And that's how I know roughly how much I weigh. It's a good system. I like it. Unfortunately, my midwife didn't find this method very praiseworthy today. In fact, I got scolded. Literally. And I love my midwife. But I definitely felt like I was 8 years old and my mom had just figured out that I had been hiding my veggies instead of actually eating them.

Apparently, getting back to your pre-pregnancy weight by 6 weeks post-partum is quite a feat. And according to the scale in the office this afternoon, I actually managed to go a whole pound under my pre-pregnancy weight in 6 weeks. I thought it was pretty great. I mean, my jeans fit again and it's not like I have been trying to lose any weight since the baby was born. Pretty much I have just been laying around and making milk and changing diapers and jiggling a baby for the past 6 weeks. Katie was here for two weeks, which means that along with the above agenda, I was also eating somewhere around a pound of butter and sugar a day, with all the cookies and cinnamon rolls and brownies and muffins that kept pouring out of our oven. Not including my stash of dark chocolate that I go back to several times during the day. And really, I don't have a scale, so I am feeling this entire time that I am a complete FATTY and need to exercise and diet and do crunches and stuff. But I never did any of it. Maybe the thoughts of exercise were burning all the calories or something.

Anyway, I was scolded for not eating enough, since I look so good (guess she missed the flabby belly and stretch marks...) and was told to eat even MORE than I was eating during my pregnancy. Good Lord. I could barely keep up with it then, and now I am so busy with my ever demanding daughter that who really even has time to eat, much less cook??? And honestly, it's not like I don't eat! Ask Eric - I'm eating all the time - and healthy food too! Also, my midwife reminded me probably a total of 7 times during my visit to eat more or I would "wither away" since I am breastfeeding and burning a lot of calories in that process. Understood. I will. Fine. Because obviously the fruits and vegetables are not cutting it. And apparently I'm supposed to be a fatty mom.

So I ate more.

On my way home from my appointment, I made sure to stop at Starbucks and purchase a giant chocolate chunk cookie and a smoothie. When I arrived home, I ate an ice cream Popsicle. For dinner I downed two bowls of rice and stir fry, and for dessert I ate a slab of chocolate chip cheese cake that I'm sure weighed at least a pound. So there. Hope you're happy.

Fortunately for my daughter (and my heart!), my gluttonous eating rampage has subsided somewhat and I'm fairly sure it will be back to the fruits and veggies tomorrow. The good news? I won't be required to stand on a scale again until next May. :)