That is the face of someone who feels guilty for cheating on her “I’ve gotta lose 15 pounds in 3 weeks” diet but who REALLY enjoyed her Five Guys burger for lunch. And also enjoys playing with her new iPhone photo app.

I fell off the Weight Watchers bandwagon during the cruise back in March. Despite my plans to get back to counting as soon as I got home…or as soon as the weekend was over…or right after this ice cream cone…I never really did. It was a great plan and absolutely works as long as you ACTUALLY DO IT. But I stopped. So I stopped losing weight. And then I gained back almost 20 pounds of the 30 I had lost because no matter HOW many times I tell myself “Oh yes, I’m making healthy choices!” I constantly underestimate what I’m eating. It’s just SO EASY to eat 500 calories worth of cookies while telling myself I’m only eating 200 calories worth of cookies while also telling myself I didn’t eat ANY cookies what are you talking about I’ve had nothing but carrot sticks all day oh right.

So I officially stopped throwing my money into Weight Watchers and downloaded the LoseIt app. I like it a lot but – AGAIN, shockingly – you only lose weight if you’re actually following the calorie guidelines and tracking what you eat. I’m good at it for about 4 days in a row and then I fall HARD off the plan and stuff my face. Someone recently told me a cheat day actually helps you lose MORE weight so I’m pretending hoping that’s true. I’ve also restarted the Couch To 5K program – I’m already on week 3 – and doing pretty well. On the days I can’t run because it’s dark when E gets home and/or my shinsplints are killing me I do a Jillian DVD or go to Stroller Strides.

I’m down 4 pounds in a week and a half, but I suspect a lot of that was just water weight (I ran out of Diet Coke). I think as long as I keep my cheat days down to once or twice a week I can keep up at least the exercise part of this New! Improved! Suzanne! plan – I don’t actually HATE working out and that seems to be the key to eating more than just lettuce and boiled chicken all the time. And nothing beats seeing the results on the scale.

But in the mean time, I need to remind myself that the body I have now is pretty good too. I can pick up the kids and climb on the playground and splash in the lake and run through a field and hold them both in my lap for story time and walk through the zoo for three hours without collapsing (although I make no promises when it comes to getting out of bed the next day). I won’t be winning (or entering) any bikini contests, but there’s no contest for who can beat themselves up the most over not fitting in their wedding dress after 2 kids either. And the LAST thing I want is for my kids to start picking up on why I’m always sighing and sucking in my stomach when I put on my bathing suit.

TL:DR version – I’m on a diet again but still love cheeseburgers. Amen.

p.s. I might not be as thin as I was when I got married but I am just as tan and just as blond for the first time since 2004 and it feels goooooooood. MOAR SUNLIGHT FOR EVERYONE.

I dislike my Google Reader on Mondays.

Mondays are the day everyone weighs in, literally, regarding their diets – especially the dozen or so bloggers I subscribe to who participate in a meme called “McFatty Mondays”. Now, I know the name is in jest and will not be writing an angry ranty post about something that’s not meant to hurt anyone. The people who participate are doing so willingly and no offense is meant. I also know the point of the meme is women encouraging other women on their weight loss journeys (and support IS very important when you’re making a life change like weight loss) but seeing McFatty McFatty McFatty over and over bothers me. But it’s not just that meme, it’s a lot of women recapping their weekends. “Oh I was so BAD! I cheated! I’m terrible! I’ll never fit in my jeans again!” It’s like a cacophony of everything a woman as ever said across the table to her girlfriend as she orders the cheesecake.

It’s taken me a long time to order the cheesecake. I like the cheesecake. The cheesecake and I, we are friends.

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When I was 19, to hide from the cheesecake, I tried to disappear. Literally. I gave up most food and existed on diet shakes, diet pills and Diet Coke. I slept a lot, because when you are sleeping you cannot eat. I volunteered to ride the ice cream bicycle all day at work so I could squeeze in 2 or 3 extra hours of exercise. There’s nothing that says “Maybe you have issues with food” more than spending all summer riding a bike around a campground in blazing hot weather selling ice cream out of a cooler and never once having so much as a freeze pop because those 90 calories might mean the difference between losing 1 pound and 2 pounds this week. I was addicted to watching the numbers go down, the same way a drug user is addicted. I would do anything to lose weight.

I would like to fill in this part of my story with lots of reasons. I was in a really unhealthy relationship that mainly consisted of who could be the most screwed up and one of our daily dysfunctional rituals was fighting over who could eat less. My college had an unusually high proportion of gorgeous, tan, size 2 girls and comparing myself to every single one of them was my favorite hobby. I was on my own for the first time in my life and the way I chose to maintain control was through food. Maybe I read too many issues of Cosmopolitan and it brainwashed me.

But it doesn’t really matter. The point is I spent my sophomore and junior years of college very thin and very miserable. One of my most distinct memories is watching an MTV True Life episode about people who hated their bodies and thinking “Wow these people are straight up crazypants crazy” Until the girl on the show said she weighed 115 pounds and I cried because I weighed more. I used to daydream I passed out from not eating during work so maybe someone would finally say “You might need help” instead of “Wow, you look GREAT!”

Maybe I did look great. I don’t really know. There are very few pictures of me from those years because I was convinced I looked fat and wouldn’t let anyone take them.

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So now, when I say cheesecake and I are friends, maybe you can understand why that’s a big deal for me. I don’t want anything to trigger those old thoughts and behaviors. I’m afraid if I start counting a few calories I’ll end up counting them ALL (I already had to delete a food tracker app from my phone because I freaked out about eating anything that wasn’t specifically listed). Losing 20 pounds is never enough. It has to be 30, 50, 80 pounds and it has to be now! Yesterday! I need to get my body back! (Because apparently my baby took it somewhere. Maybe I should just ask her.) Swimsuit season is coming! And then I am miserable again.

To be honest, all my pregnancy weight from baby #2 is already gone. Being sick so often was a really effective diet and fevers burn a lot of calories. Maybe this time breastfeeding is sucking out all my fat or chasing a toddler really was all the exercise I needed. (Wow, I’m practically a celebrity mom! Alert US Weekly!) My body is back to the weight it likes to maintain when I’m not trying to diet, a weight I’m not particularly happy with but one that isn’t going to hurt me. I have clothes that fit and can smile into a camera instead of running away.

That’s not to say I’m not trying to be healthier. I’m back at Stroller Strides and feel good to be working out again. I had a yogurt for breakfast and am proud of making a wise choice. There is broccoli in my fridge and I have plans to actually eat it.

But I also plan to eat the cheesecake.

So you know what’s really really boring? Listening to people talk about their diets and workout plans and weight loss goals and OMG this new dance-yoga-spinning-butter-churning class they just signed up for at the gym. So I apologize in advance for this post.

I have never ever been good at dieting. That’s not to say I’ve never been SUCCESSFUL at dieting, I’m just not very good at it. My strategy has always been more exercise, not less dessert, which worked well for me when I was 20, after this I even tried some appetite suppressants from West Word which help me a lot with this. It’s not hard to find time for yet another class at the gym when your biggest problem in life is finding an after-hours bar because a 2 am last call is, like, SOOOOOO lame.

Then, BAM, I got married and spent all my time sitting on a couch instead of at those 7 am Saturday Pilate’s classes. And then, BAM, we moved away from the land of bathing suits and tank tops to Connecticut, where big, baggy sweatshirts are acceptable attire 7 months of the year. And then, BAM, I had a baby and everything that used to point up pointed down and things that used to go in go out and everywhere from my toes to my earlobes streeeetched and now I am without hope.

I could say I’ve been trying to get back in shape for a while now, but that would be mostly false. Sure I joined Stroller Strides and have shown up for class three days a week almost every week since October but trying is too strong of a word for my participation. I’ve doing more strolling than striding. But with Baby Evan’s first birthday on the horizon and my pre-pregnancy jeans still totally unbuttonable it is time to buckle down and DO THIS. And since writing about it on the internet is the best way to make sure as many people as possible hold me accountable, here’s THE PLAN:

1. Attend Stroller Strides at least 5 days a week (and not half-ass my way through the hour).

2. Drink a lot more water and a lot less soda – even the diet kind.

3. Stop buying candy since I am totally incapable of eating a reasonable amount as a treat instead of an entire bag as dinner.

4. Eat breakfast every day.

5. Weigh myself on Saturdays to keep my goals on track.

I know if I tried I could make THE PLAN much more ambitious. If it comes down to it I can put myself on the totally no fun no days off no will to live diet that would get results but also make me a cranky miserable bitch for a few weeks, although it would mean I can go back to just maintaining my weight sooner. It also might mean my husband and child never speak to me again. It’s a hard decision.

Stay tuned for fascinating and enthralling updates and possibly a photo that will scare you out of having children forever. As soon as I have an after (or a middle, or a one seventh of the way through, or a ANY IMPROVEMENT AT ALL) photo to share, I fully intend to post them both. And if you don’t delete me from your bookmarks after that threat, you have no one to blame but yourself. Also, I love you.