I stepped on the scale this morning and a very unpleasant number stared back at me.  Yikes, I thought.  I haven’t weighed this much since after I got out of college, lived back at home, and thought I could eat whatever I wanted, not work out, and be totally fine.  Mind you, I was 22 when that happened, and now it’s 11 years later, and a whole lot easier to gain weight and a whole lot harder to lose it.

Prior to my infertility diagnosis, I started watching what I ate and logging my calories.  For me, that’s the only course of action that works.  I use My Fitness Pal, log my exercise and what I ate, and try my best to stay at or under my calories each day.  When you’re responsible for writing down everything you put in your mouth, those chocolate covered marshmallow eggs seem far less appealing knowing that they’ll quickly bump those calories consumed up, up, up. Continue reading “The Weight of Weight”