“So, when are you due?” she asked.
I stood there, shocked into silence staring at the numbers of the elevator change. 17, 16, 15…
“Soon.” I mumbled.
12, 11, 10, the numbers couldn’t go down fast enough. I wanted off of that elevator and out of the building into the sunshine so I could put on my sunglasses and hide the fact my eyes were filling up with tears.
I had a baby 10 months ago. My third, my first boy, my handsome little man. I haven’t put a whole lot of effort into losing the baby weight, I’ll admit it; but to be asked if I was pregnant, by another mom, at a conference for women? It was just not something that I ever imagined being asked (who does that unless they’re 100% sure?).
In retrospect I should have said “I’m not, but thanks for pointing out that I need to lay off the ice cream.” so she would feel as bad as I did in that moment. But that’s just anger talking, and really, I wasn’t upset at her for asking, I’m angry at myself.
I’m a food blogger. I eat, sleep and breathe food. I cook with real butter (and lots of it), I make cakes, cookies and cupcakes almost daily. I experiment with all kinds of cooking methods and ingredients and cuisines. After my family, it’s my biggest passion. I try to limit my “taste-testing” to one or two cookies, or just a sliver of cake, but when you’re doing this every day, and temptation is all around the calories add up.
I know “food blogger” doesn’t automatically equal being overweight. There are a LOT of skinny chefs and bloggers out there; I’m not trying to blame the food. I know I need to spend less time editing photos and trolling the internet for inspiration and hit the treadmill. I know HOW to lose weight; I just haven’t put aside any time to do it.
After that comment on the elevator, and seeing pictures from that weekend trip, I know I’m now motivated to begin the process. I know I’m ready to make some changes. I’m going to try to incorporate more health-conscious meals and recipes into my “must-try” list for my blog, and I’m going to get out of my kitchen more and out into the fresh air for exercise. However, while I intend to try to become healthier, I refuse to give up the thing that makes me truly happy: cooking.
I’m going to give it my best shot. I may or may not ever reach my goal weight, but I’ve decided that’s okay. Cupcakes put a smile on my face, a delicious cookie experiment that’s a success puts a bounce in my step, and sharing yummy recipes with my readers gives me a great sense of accomplishment. If the price I have to pay for that kind of happiness is that I never wriggle into a pair of size 4 jeans, so be it.
Giving up butter just isn’t worth it.
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