I can honestly say that I have never watched what I eat. Growing up, I was kind of small, and gained all the college weight, but still never gave up my beloved chips and queso.
Study abroad in Spain: 12 pounds in one summer.
6 months in the Dominican Republic: about 5 pounds (?) of rice and beans.
Then came pregnancy. 35 pounds. My third trimester was awesome, since my doc was telling me, "Well, we wanted you to gain 25 pounds..." Whoops! She mentioned it would be harder getting the weight off on the other side of it.
She was right. I literally have never eaten more than I did when I was pregnant. To top it all off, I was student teaching with kiddos who constantly brought in doughnuts and cupcakes, and I felt the need to sample every single baked good that ever sat in the teacher's lounge. Then I had the baby. Yes! 25 pounds came off by themselves over a couple months or so.
The main problem, though? I don't know how to go back to not-pregnant eating. My mind still thinks that an obscene amount of food is what I need to survive the day! Since I stay at a house watching my kid and my cousin, I find myself wandering around the kitchen for snacks. all. day. This is part of the reason I think I need to work outside the home.
Then Mother's Day arrived. As usual, my mom sent us home with a pie. Dave waved it in front of me. I was already full. I didn't need pie. But I stood there eating it straight out of the dish. Then this conversation took place:
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Me: Dave, I'm pregnant.
Dave: No you're not. You know how I know that's not true? Because you're not crying.
Me: Why am I eating this pie?!
Dave: Just throw it away if you don't want it.
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He's right. I was lying. I'm not pregnant. And I threw away the pie. As of yesterday, I am losing the food battle. But today is a new day!
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