Sunday, February 14, 2010
Weekly weigh-in: 197.5
Total loss: 95.0 lbs.
Just when I settle in to the idea that micro-losses, stalemates and mini-gains are the way it’s gonna be from here on out, the scale shows me a little tender-lovin’ kindness.
Even after 44 weeks on this rock-n-roll roller-coaster, I still can’t say I have a real handle on why the scale does what the scale does. I mean, some weeks I’m absolutely golden and my scale (“Miss Fussybritches”) rewards me with a goose egg (or worse… a gain). Some weeks, I seem to slip, stagger and stumble for days on end, and Miss FB doesn’t punish me the swift kick in the groin I so richly deserve.
It’s a theme I see repeated ad nauseum on other’s weight-loss blogs as well. People give it their all for a week and confusedly report a gain instead of the loss they were expecting. I do my best to ease their minds and soothe their troubled psyches … try to get them to buy in to the idea that scales are finicky creatures that are always trying to undermine our resolve and break our spirit. But truthfully… I got no clue.
I do understand one thing, though. I know that sometimes folks delude themselves when the scale pulls a fast one of them.
“Oh, I ate a donut and a lost two pounds this week. Ergo, donuts lead to weight loss!”
Now I may be ignorant to many of the tiny nuances and intricacies of weight loss, but I don’t try to talk myself into nonsense like that.
In my pursuit to slay The Great White Scale, I’ve held firm to the belief that this isn’t a one-month, six-month, year-long quest. This isn’t a journey from here to there, not a race to any specific finish line.
This is just me doing what I need to do.
This is just me living like I need to live.
So I’ll just keep doing like I’m doing and living like I’m living.
Next week I may curse the scale.
This week, I’ll celebrate it.