Monday, September 12, 2011

Watching what I eat

Last Sunday I decided I decided my non-stop eating of crap needed to stop. Since I'm breastfeeding, I'm hungry all the time. ALL. THE. TIME. There's not really much I can do about that. It's just the way it is. The problem was I was eating cookies and ice cream and pasta with butter and parmesan all the time. So I decided to go on a "watching what I eat" plan. I wasn't going on a diet, because hahahaha. Besides, my body has a mind of its own while pregnant or breastfeeding and weight gain/loss or lack thereof seems to have no relation to what I eat.

But, just because I can eat all the ice cream I want without gaining weight* doesn't mean I won't feel generally crappy while doing it. I'm certainly not going to stop eating ice cream, but it's worth trying to eat healthier if it will give me more energy or make me less sluggish.

That was eight days ago. I'm still watching what I eat, but now I just watch myself bring the entire tub of cookies into the living room so I won't have to keep walking to the kitchen. Maybe I'll try again when I go back to work.

*While it's great to eat all the ice cream I want without gaining weight, it's also insanely frustrating to be at an "unhealthy" weight and not be able to lose one single pound, no matter how hard I try, until I stop breastfeeding. In fact, while breastfeeding Meg, any attempt to lose weight in a reasonable, non-drastic manner just led to my body stubbornly hanging on to every pound and instead reducing my milk supply. I am not doing THAT again.


  1. Ugh...I hate the post-pregnancy-during-breastfeeding period when I am starving and yet know I shouldn't be eating that delicious crap all the damn time.

  2. You know all those people who are like "Breastfeeding is the best diet EVAR!" and they fit into their size four jeans mere weeks after pushing a human from their loins? Yeah, I hate them. My body likes a fair amount of cushion while pregnant and breastfeeding. I have to keep telling myself that feeding John is more important than fitting into my (not size four) jeans right now. Sigh.