Another photo I don't want to post

This is me, today, in the fitting room at a local sports store, trying on bathing suits. The suit fits remarkably well - much better than the one I wore out over the last several years - but this is (while it seems ridiculous) a milestone for me for another reason: because I was able to buy a suit that fit me in a store. 

I don't know if stores assume athletes are all under a certain size or what, but I remember being so frustrated and disappointed when I took my older daughter to the same store years ago, trying to find a new suit so I could swim for exercise. The trip was a failure - not only because I had a 1-year-old ducking between my legs and hiding behind mannequins the whole time, but because I ended up leaving empty handed, forced to buy a suit online and hope it fit. 

I did eventually manage to buy a suit online, and it did fit well. It was a size 42. I have no idea what the hell 42 means. 42 what? But, irrespective of confusing (to me, anyway) sizing conventions, the "swimming costume," as my daughters' favorite cartoon family would say, suited me well and has been a faithful companion for 3 years now. It was growing ragged, and with a little fewer lbs on my body I figured I'd give the sports store another try (this time without adventurous toddlers sabotaging the trip). 

So, here is me in the fitting room in a size 38 (whatever that means). I went on to spend way too much money on what, especially after swimming a mile in it, I consider to be a perfect suit, and as an added bonus I'm a faster swimmer now, because I don't have a saggy suit dragging in the water. Or because the suit is magic. I prefer to believe the latter. 

Decisions: 6 Months Later

Lately I've come to realize that life as an adult is an interminable series of decisions, each one more difficult than the next.

There were the relatively easy ones:

Should we get married? Of course.
Which house should we buy? That one is just perfect.
When to have the first child? 2 years seems about right.
How about the second? Another 2 years sounds great.

Then they get more difficult:

When one of the kids is sick, should we run this test or give that medicine, or trust that the ear infection/cough/dry skin/ailment of the week will resolve on its own?
Are my daughter and I doomed to having the dry skin on our upper arms forever, or is it really caused by some food we are eating? Should we try this cream/use this essential oil/change our diet to see if it will help?
Should I take this job, the one that pays less and requires more of my time but that I'll enjoy immensely?

Then there's the one that I haven't been able to nail down in 33 years of life and 15 years of trying to control my weight:

What and how should I eat?

The problem with this question is that there are so many convincing answers. So many experts cite so much research that supports any variety of diet modifications. It's the topic of many sardonic comments (one from the '90s about some kind of Grapefruit Diet comes to mind), but also of countless talk shows, podcasts, blogs, and books. And they all seem to make so much sense.

I am a smart woman. I studied neuroscience and math in college. I had planned on attending medical school before my serendipitous detour into education. I read. A lot. I understand how the body works. I understand about receptors and DNA transcription and translation and signal transduction and refractory periods and all manner of biological processes.

So why, then, is it so hard for me to understand what is going on in my body, and how to control it?

I think part of it is the faulty research upon which our national foundation has been resting for the last 30 or 40 years. Saturated fats, artificial sweeteners, trans fats, grains, the math of calories in vs. calories out and that 3,500 number that I have at times held so firmly in my grasp... There is stunningly conflicting information about every one of these items, and many more, everywhere you look. It all seems to make sense on the surface, and while I am a smart woman I am also a busy woman. And I have just had too much going on to dig below the surface and find truth.

So, finally, I looked where I've been looking more and more lately: evolution. If everything seems to make sense, what makes the most sense to me will be to follow evolution's lessons. The question I ask myself is: What would a cave person do? I began this line of questioning when I became a parent, and it formed my parenting philosophy: Breastfeeding, sleeping close to my babies, using natural infant hygiene rather than relying on diapers. So why should food be any different?

The husband and I have been lazily following Mark Sisson's blog, Mark's Daily Apple, for years. But, after a friend pointed me more solidly in this direction by way of Primal Boston, I decided to look more deeply and ultimately to commit to a primal diet. I haven't had a grain in 8 days, and in those 8 days I've lost about 8 pounds. I won't go into the ideology of the Primal Blueprint right now, but I'll say that it's the thing that makes the most sense, and that's given me the best and fastest results, after nearly half a lifetime of struggling with my weight. In just a week I've zoomed past the weight I was at when I became pregnant with my first child and am headed downward toward the somewhat lower weight I enjoyed when I learned Baby Number Two was on the way. I'm cooking and eating and enjoying every last minute, and I feel closer to satisfied with my diet than I have in ... well ... ever.

I will be back soon with an update, and I am hopeful I'll be able to report an even greater slimming and continued contentment with my food and exercise situation. See you soon!