Deep breath, shields up

First of all, some news.  I have a new pair of skinny jeans.  Old Navy Size 12.  TWELVE. Not 14. Not 20. 12.  I wrote this post in 2011, before I got pregnant with Lionfish, about my goal being a 14 going on 12. It took an extra year, and my work clothes are still definitely 14, but yeah ... I own and can wear size 12 jeans.

On a somewhat related note, I am heading to visit my parents today and we're staying overnight.

My mom never supports my diets. Indeed, she actively sabotages them.  She always wants to talk about food and diets and the latest fad that she's trying. She always says things like "we" need to lose some weight and suggests I try some miracle chemical juice additive. But she calls me a bitch (jokingly... passive aggressive much?) whenever she sees me and I've dropped a few pounds.  And then she buys donuts. (See, e.g., the sabotage link).

Last time I was at her house, I had only been off dairy (for the baby) for about 48 hours.  Although I had told her and we had talked about it at length over the week on the phone, I was not yet mindful of it. She suggested pizza for lunch and I agreed without a second thought ... until it arrived. I ate one slice, suffered with the baby all night, and haven't slipped since.  BTW I sincerely doubt she consciously suggested pizza to sabotage me on the dairy thing -- pizza was just easy & and she forgot, as did I.  But she did know I was trying to eat healthier.

A few things are different now. We've been talking about the dairy thing pretty much every other day for a month -- she asks how its going, whether I miss cheese and butter and when I'm going to give up nursing so I can eat again.  She understands it now, and knows what I'm not eating it, knows I am happier and feel better and that the baby is much happier, but she's not happy for me.  Especially since I've lost more weight.

I'm not asking her to buy anything different or special for me. I bring my own almond milk everywhere. She doesn't make lasagna or anything like that as a Sunday dinner -- its all meat potato and veggies. My only request is that she not put butter on the veg, or understand (without it becoming a super dramatic fight) that I won't eat it. This is probably going to be seen as unreasonable, as will my rejection of various other things over the course of 12 hours (I anticipate any, but probably not all, of the following: ice cream, chocolate, cake with buttercream, mac&cheese, pizza, some high sugar lactose free creamer cuz she's being "supportive").

Oh also:  she is very controlling in her house, so don't suggest we offer to make dinner. We've tried. We even showed up with the groceries (like she does when she visits here).  It didn't work, and she was offended.

I hope I'm wrong. I hope we have a lovely, low drama visit. Unfortunately, I have my anxiety boots on, and I'm feeling crabby.  But I am desperately trying to get my shields up.