The Real Reason I Haven't Lost Baby Weight

I am now going to utter (type?) a statement I never, ever thought I'd write. No, it's not "I'm engaged to William Shatner." It's this: I. Love. To. Cook.

Weird, right? See, I figured out what happened. I had a baby, had to stay home with the baby, everyone else in my house started going to work every day, leaving me alone with the baby, and come dinnertime everyone was hungry, and we'd all stare at each other starving until we either gave in and went out to eat (sometimes okay but usually disappointing), or one of us would groan and get up and make French toast or grilled cheese.

I figured I'd better learn to cook so we wouldn't all get scurvy. Turns out I actually really, really like it. New recipes sort of make me giddy, and even though with everyone's crazy schedules I usually end up cooking an entire meal and eating it alone, I'm happy in the kitchen.

It's nice. It's a little sanctuary. No one ever wants to help, so they all stay away from me. I turn on my iPod and shuffle through angsty 90s rock songs and neo-Country, singing at Finley who is banging a spoon against Cheerios in her high chair, giggling at the sight of my greasy hands.

I love the presentation of a beautifully produced what-have-you. I love the inventiveness of it--not enough flour, my cookies are flat, get more chicken broth in there, no chicken broth, okay, butter, olive oil, why are you always sneaking into everything I eat, more chocolate, add chocolate, the recipe doesn't call for chocolate but let's add some chocolate. And it doesn't hurt that I really love food.

Some things I love to make:

My salsa
Chocolate chip cookies
Spinach and tomato quiche
Pasta carbonara
Coffee cake with mocha icing
Grilled eggplant pasta with chicken
Enchiladas
Quinoa/huevos rancheros
Asian noodles with stir fry
Fried chicken
Sweet potato pie

Jealous much?

I've also revised the way I eat and the way I shop. I eat meat occasionally, maybe once a day if that, and only chicken, fish, or lean cuts of beef. I buy fresh rather than canned, even if it means more work. I replace white with wheat, white with brown, and hide as many vegetables as I possibly can into my family's dinners. Limiting dairy and meat is the best thing I've done for my body in a long time. I'm not losing weight from it, but I am feeling so much better. It's either that or there's a carbon monoxide leak.

As much as I live to eat, however, I do not like to exercise. No, I mean it--I despise exercise. Even when I was thinner and more in shape--every minute of me sweating and pushing and breathing hard was torture. I hate it. I hate running, I hate walking, I hate lifting weights, I hate it all. I've tried tricking my body into having a good time while exercising, like roller blading or dancing. But my body's no fool. Endorphins are nice, I guess, but I can get those by laughing. I very rarely feel as if I've accomplished something great after I'm done exercising.

I even got a new bike with a bike trailer, thinking I'd bike every day with Finley on the convenient new bike trail behind my house. But every huff and puff just reminds me how chubby I've really gotten and how ridiculous I really feel.
See my problem? I know, I know, I need an attitude adjustment more than anything. So here's my attitude adjustment:

Old attitude: Wah, I'm getting fat, no one will love me, I totally look the part of a mom, I just need to get my head in the right space and exercise. it's good for me, buck up, just do it.

New attitude: I like to eat. I hate to run. I don't have to date, so now I'm done. The end.