This weekend, I was planning to write a post about how good things seem now. In the last few weeks, I’ve gotten to a very good place. I’m working out regularly five times a week. I’ve been journaling my food for two months straight. My eating is on an even keel with an occasional treat, but few total derailments. My clothes are even getting looser, and I feel great.
This morning, I woke up with a rash on my eyelid, so I made an unplanned visit to the City’s health clinic. And though I was only there for a rash, on my eyelid, they weighed me. I panicked. I finally gave up the scales in April, and it’s been a very healthy thing for me. But today, they wanted to weigh me. I should’ve closed my eyes, but truth was, I was a little curious. So I looked. My heart dropped when I saw that my weight was actually up five pounds since my last weigh in.
I’ve tried since I saw that number to rationalize it. First of all, I was fully dressed and had breakfast, water and two coffees under my belt. I figure that all things considered, I’m probably right about where I was the last time I weighed. Secondly, it’s only been about two months since everything has kind of come together. In that interim month, my weight may have gone up. Today’s weigh in could’ve actually reflected a loss. But all I know is that I am no closer to MP-30 pounds that I was in April, and that stings.
Realistically, I know that today is no different than yesterday. I am either toning up or coming back down. I am at a great place with my eating and work outs, and that is a good thing. Nothing is different except that dang number on the scales.
Today’s challenge is to keep my chin up, NOT to give in to a food-fueled pity party and continue to keep the faith. Much easier said than done, and while my head is feeling it, my heart is not. And it’s only lunchtime. Sigh.