This morning, I stepped on the scale and saw the lowest number since getting pregnant with Julian: 207.8. I just need to lose 2.8 more pounds and I’m DONE losing the Julian weight. Hooray! Then it’s time to tackle the remaining 20 pounds of Pippa weight. Then 10 lbs of newlywed bliss weight. And then there’s just the matter of forty pounds of “I hate being a fucking lawyer, give me chocolate” weight.


Chocolate! Chocolate! Chocolate!

Right now, I’m just focusing on those remaining 2.8 pounds of Julian weight.

And trust. I am focusing on TRUSTING MYSELF.

In the past, I lost weight by following diets: Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, South Beach, back to Weight Watchers, and most recently, counting calories on my Fitbit App. This morning, after I stepped off the scale, I had an epiphany: I followed those diets because I did not otherwise trust myself to lose weight.


Who wants to ruin ice cream with a banana? 

Or, bigger picture: I did not trust myself to eat in a healthy way. I was unconsciously worried that if I wasn’t recording Weight Watcher points or cutting carbs, I would go bat shit crazy and eat All The Food and be miserable and fat and no one would ever love me.

I have some emotional issues when it comes to food.

But I’m working on them! I’m in weekly talk therapy and digging up all sorts of emotional shit to figure out why I overeat. I’ve had a lot of ideas, but I like today’s epiphany: Trust.


Is there anything better than cheese? No, there’s not.

I have to trust myself to have the occasional sweet without going into a sugar feeding frenzy. I have to trust myself to pour a bowl of Cheerios without measuring it first.  I have to trust myself to stop eating when I’m full.

In the past, I looked up calorie counts of recipes and restaurant dishes. I only ordered meals that fell within my calorie quota. Today, I went to a restaurant for lunch and I trusted myself. I ordered the fish tacos, ate a few of Pippa’s french fries, and stopped eating when I was full. I don’t know how many calories were in the fries or tacos because I just ate what my body wanted. I trusted my body. I trusted myself.


Who invented pancakes? The Earl of Pancake?

Eating is such a basic part of my survival. If I don’t trust myself when it comes to food, then how can I trust myself when it comes to raising children? Having a happy marriage? Making new friends?

I have felt a glow from within ever since this idea of TRUST MYSELF popped into my head. I’m excited to see what the coming weeks hold in store for me as I practice the Lost Art of Trusting Myself (and my stomach) (and my hormones).