Monday morning was my first weigh day. I bought a scale, I bought a whiteboard to record my weight. The only thing Target couldn’t sell me was a little self confidence, and I could really have used it.
It’s been several months since I started this “eating better and exercising” thing. Probably close to 3 months by now. I thought I would have lost a little bit of weight. Ten pounds would have been amazing. I would have settled for 5.
I guess the problem is I didn’t know for sure how much I weighed when I started. A few months beforehand I had visited the doctor, who weighed me, and I think I remember the number the nurse blurted out (thanks a lot, dude). But I was perhaps mistaken, or deluding myself, because the number on my scale now is vastly different. Twenty pounds different. I have not gained twenty pounds.
It’s shocking to see that kind of number on a scale, and while I know logically a number does not define my worth as a human being, it does have a larger-than-expected impact on my self esteem and confidence. I’ve been feeling really good these past few months. I walk 2 miles every day, and I have been making conscious choices to eat healthier foods. I felt like I was on the way to something awesome, but according to my scale, I might as well have not even bothered.
I think the most important thing to take away from this is what I just said: I felt good during those months. I enjoyed getting outdoors, walking around, eating better foods…those are positive things regardless of how much weight actually disappeared as a result. I got a tan (and a few minor sunburns) and I got active. Those are good.
When I feel like this I just remind myself of all the reasons I started this little journey. It’s not about an end number. It’s about an end feeling. I want to feel good about myself again. And when I do, I’m going to laugh in my stupid scale’s face.
…also, I’m visiting my folks this weekend, so I am gonna hop on their scale and see what happens. There is always the chance mine is wrong!