19/90, sweet potato, pie

The truth is that I've gained twenty pounds since coming to college.

The truth is that I was too skinny in high school.

The truth is that until a week ago, I thought I was the only one whose belly hung over their low-rise jeans when they sat down. I thought I was the only one that lived their life with their stomach sucked in.

The truth is that I have also grown an inch since college, that I am four years closer to having children and my body knows that.

A lesser-known truth is that I am willing to give any diet a go. Hence the sweet potatoes three times a week. The cans of sardines I plan to eat on avocado sandwiches. The smoothies for breakfast. The vegan blogs I follow. The Skinny Bitch book and lists of groceries to follow their sample month diet.

Hence the cookies I bake and give to people. Because when I eat one, when I stray by one meal from any of these plans or lifestyles or goals, I feel like I have failed. One missed step, and I eat four cookies for breakfast. One missed day of yoga, and I am convinced that I have lost all lean muscle and growing flexibility.

The truth is this is nonsense. This is not eating or enjoying food or being healthy. I truly love the foods, love the cookbooks and the meatless meals. I love every vegetable I've come across. I love yoga. I love the feeling of being satisfied and not full and glowing with the nutrients of fresh, seasonal foods.

Right now, I am reading The One-Straw Revolution, a manifesto that encourages a complete return to natural farming and eating what is found on the earth based on the natural cycles of the year. I am reading these words and reminding myself that this is what it's about. A return to the communion that is at the heart of meals, the sharing between nature and human. That is what leads to a healthy body, beyond weight and beyond societal image and beyond dietary trends.

I am reminding myself that I will fit in my wedding dress; that a beer is not a six-pack is not a beer belly; that one cookie every once in a while keeps you from sneaking four cookies at six in the morning so no one knows it happened.