This week I hopped on the scale for the first time in probably four months, and it immediately brought me back to when I first started checking my weight. When I first weighed in, it was almost like a scientific experiment. I’d weigh in in the morning, evening,just before bed, and after workouts. All to see what the difference might be.

Then I started to consider other aspects such as water weight, and heavy meals that might linger(intestinal-ly). Weighing in became a ritual and a guessing game as to why my weight fluctuated the way it did. Then it became a point of frustration, because I wasn’t seeing results. In hindsight, it’s interesting how my feelings toward the scale evolved.

During the initial weighing, I looked at the scale as something that was in the range of where my weight was. If it was a few pounds up or down, I could attribute it to something after a while. When I was relying on the scale to confirm my belief that I lost weight, I was becoming dejected when it would go up or remain the same. It started to be a lot like hoping my lottery numbers came up.

Scales don’t necessarily lie(crappy ones do), but there’s so many factors to consider when finding the truth within their numbers. I became frustrated with the numbers game and ditched weighing in altogether.

This was dumb. Weighing in is the easiest reminder of how your day should go. I think the trick is not to think about it beyond the fact I know what I weighed at 7:32AM. Disconnecting it from the rest of my feelings toward weight loss isn’t easy. I don’t expect it to get any easier…but I also thinking weighing myself is critical to stay on track.

So that’s where my thought was this morning, when I pulled the scale out from behind the sink.  I’ll update my weight every day, though I think a lot of things will dictate where the number rests truly. My guess is the occasional day will be missed, but more or less it should be there for all to see.

 

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