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Scaling back

July 21, 2009

You know that old saying, “When mama’s on a diet, everyone’s on a diet”? Well, it isn’t quite like that when daddy is on a diet, although if I feel like being naughty and cheating on my own ongoing mama diet, I usually do so before he comes home, just so he doesn’t feel bad. And to clarify, my DH is not on a strict diet, it’s more like he is trying to eat less and better things. Like salad for dinner or a scrambled egg with fresh tomato, etc. What he is doing is exercising quite a bit and has therefor managed to lose a solid 8 pounds. Yea! Solid meaning that it doesn’t fluctuate much in the upwards way. How do I know this? Because he weighs himself EVERYDAY!

This drives me crazy. Not only because during his plateau days of weight loss does he weigh himself more out of frustration, moving the scale to and fro to make sure it is “flat on the ground enough” but it also makes the scale readily available for me to use. Which I don’t like. And yes, I tried placing it underneath the sink, but DH didn’t like having it out of sight because god forbid one day go by without him knowing whether to be happy or frustrated.

I don’t like weighing myself because I can become obsessed easily. During high school I went through my phase of weighing myself all the time, trying to stay at 100lbs in my 5’8″ body, not eating anything but apples for days straight, always thinking I was fat, not wearing certain items because it would show off my “pudge” AHHHHHHHHH! Make it stop! I even tried taking weight loss pills which probably would have ruined my heart had my mother not found them and grounded me. Being the nurse that she is she made sure I was scared out of using them again. It worked. Never again.

Teenage girls are ridiculous about weight, but not any more than grown women sometimes. Now, after having had a child (who was born at almost 8lbs) things in my body have changed. I have bigger hips and my stomach is not longer flat (and never will be I’m assuming) and although my legs were actually shapelier right after giving birth, they have gone right back to their muscular selves 20 months later.

I’m fine. I know I’m fine. As a young woman I trained myself to not weigh myself but to go by my pants and skirts and how they fit me. My year in Ireland made me have to suck it in to get into my skirt (there’s something about having to eat chocolate in that weather) but back at home I hit the gym and once again things fit. Until the pregnancy I seriously hadn’t weighed myself in 5 years, except at the doctor’s office. But in Spain they are a bit obsessed with how much ladies gain while pregnant (not a bad thing in it’s entirety, but that’s another post) and with one doctor yelling at me about how much I had gained I started hitting the scale. And my husband encouraged me, but you would have to know more about him and his family to understand that he wasn’t being mean, just “concerned”. After giving birth I was able to stop weighing myself because I just didn’t have time, but once I gave up breastfeeding in March of this year I slowly started following in my husband’s footsteps.

Our trip to Italy in June seemed to have made me gain 4 pounds, which I freaked out about. I want to get pregnant soon and this time I want to gain less than 40 pounds. My goal is 30, no more. But I also want to start out at a decent weight, too. So going back to the gym routinely and getting back into weights have helped me shape up and now I’m fine. But yesterday was the last time I will weight myself. I’m done. The obsession must stop. I weighed in at 143lbs and you will not hear me talk about pounds again. Not until I get pregnant, and then only when the doctor makes me stand on the scale. I’m back to my old indicator: pants. Ah, feels good to not be bound by the scale chain anymore!

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