Many things have happened due to the strict diet I’ve put myself on (no dairy, soy, wheat, nuts, beans, gassifying veg or high acid foods) for the past month or so. I don’t eat out any more. Ergo, I cook a lot. I eat a lot of meat and oatmeal and rice. Variety in my diet has ebbed alarmingly. And I’m losing weight like a fiend.
Seriously, jeans that I haven’t been able to wear for 2 years (good thing I’m a pack-rat, as one friend pointed out) are LOOSE on me. This is the most dramatic weight loss I’ve ever experienced when not in break-up recovery, and I’m not even exercising! Don’t get me wrong – as soon as I think the tyrant can handle a more expanded diet on my part, I’ll be eating lentils, cheese, edamame, tomatoes and broccoli again (though probably not all at once), but for now I am basking in my slimmer hips and thighs. A belly persists – a kind of mommy medal of honor I suppose.
I’m not running out to buy new clothes yet – I’m enjoying how loose my jeans are right now, thanks – but I’m actually feeling a little guilty for how pleased I am with the weight loss. Seems like I should stoically accept it, as I have stoically taken on the queer dietary restrictions. Mostly I guess it seems inappropriate to exult in a happy side effect of our trying to resolve our daughter’s pain.
(That being said, I will express a teensy-tiny yay. Don’t tell.)
I think that’s awesome. It’s not just the diet – although I’m sure that’s a big part – but, amen for breast feeding – burning those calories is such an excellent added bonus!