I have become obsessed with my scale. That black and silver machine can make or break my morning. If it shows a lower number, I walk out of the house smiling. If it shows a higher number, I will be sure to be a grump. This relationship with my scale is more complicated than my marriage.
I know that I shouldn’t base my mood off of what that horrid little machine says. But the truth is when you make the decision to finally get healthy, it would appear the scale becomes the all knowing guru.
It reminds me of one of those magic eight balls, the ones you asked a question than shook vigorously to find out what the answer was. My scale has become my eight ball. Instead of asking it if so and so will ask me out, I instead ask it over and over again if I lost weight. I have been known to give it the silent treatment from time to time when I am really unhappy with the answer.
I got so excited because on Saturday its little blue screen informed me that I lost seven pounds in the last week. That is only sixteen pounds away from my first goal weight (yes I have several goal weights). This morning I stepped on and I had gained three pounds back. This resulted in stepping on and off several times, than a cussing war with the machine and finally ended with me getting dressed and sulking off to work.
My scale defeated me again.
As long as I keep trying, keep stepping on that scale with my chin raised high, I figure I am doing good. I know in the long run it will take some time to get to a healthier version of me again, since it took me a long time to get this unhealthy.
But a girl can fantasize about instant results still right?
Do you have an uncomfortable relationship with your scale?