Ditch The Diet! Eat Right. Move More. Move On!
For some reason, I couldn’t stop myself. It was almost like I just had to prove something. I felt horrible. Stomach was bloated. Hit snooze a few too many times. All I wanted to do was eat Christmas cookies and drink coffee for breakfast.
My head was just in a bad spot. It really has been since I hurt my back, but honestly before that if I think about it. The injury brought my workouts to a screeching halt. Brought my diet to a screeching “yeah sure, I’ll have an extra piece/extra glass/extra homemade blah blah blah/etc.”
You know how that is.
It’s that slippery slope of feeling on top of your game, in charge of your choices and your health one minute. Then cookies, cheese, wine and the couch are totally winning the next.
So this morning it came to a head. And for some reason, I couldn’t stop myself. It was almost like I just had to prove something.
And KNOWING that I felt this way, I made an awesome choice. And by awesome, I mean stupid.
I jumped on the scale. Now why the heck would you do that on a day you already feel like crap?
The scale has such power over us.
Good number = good day.
Bad number = bad day.
So what do you think happened when I jumped on the scale?
**Dislaimer: I want to say right here at this point in my story that I am skinny. I am fit. I weighed 200 pounds at one point in my life. My lowest weight ever was 128 pounds (ouch – give this girl a cheeseburger!). I weigh 140 pounds today. I am skinny and I know this. It’s not about that right now. It’s about the mind game the scale plays with us. Keep reading**
You see where this is going. It was #2. I got on. Weight was up from my comfortable weight. No wonder my jeans don’t fit.
Immediately started ranting in my head. Stupid scale. Stupid injury. Stupid cake. Stupid cookies. Stupid wine. Stupid “willpower” (my least favorite word). Stupid jeans. Stupid skipped workouts. Stupid weight regain. Stupid 140.
I’ve been steadily gaining weight since the summer. Stupid summer. Stupid getting closer to turning 40. Stupid thyroid. Stupid getting older.
Then I stopped.
This really isn’t a surprise. Joke is on me. I know I haven’t been making the best effort with my workouts lately. I know I haven’t been making the best food choices. I knew why my jeans weren’t fitting. Really not a surprise.
I got off the scale.
Put my pajama pants and T-shirt back on. Come on, everyone knows they weigh with as little on as possible!
Picked the scale up.
Out the back door.
And threw the scale in the trash.
I am not lying.
I threw that stupid scale in the trash with a little oomph behind it. UGH!
Not like a crazy person who throws a fit when something doesn’t go her way.
Not like that at all.
Like a person who is sick of caring what that number is.
Like a person who is in charge of her choices.
Like a person who refuses to allow a number to dictate how she feels.
I threw my scale in the trash. And I have no plans of buying another one.
Back in the house, I felt liberated.
Sure, the focus of weight loss/weight maintenance/etc. usually ends up being about achieving a number. But that’s just one prize. The prize you get that no one else sees. It’s up on your shelf, collecting dust.
The grand prize isn’t the number on the scale. It’s what happens to you along the way. The things that happen that the scale can never measure. But everyone else sees. That you see. That you wear publicly.
You become an animal. You become motivated by your own choices. Your own results.
You become determined to succeed. Hungry for fitness. Inspired by killing your goals.
Confident you can accomplish anything you put your mind to.
Commit to the fact that anything worth having is worth working for.
Stupid scale. Scale can’t measure that.
Back in the house, I walked by the Christmas cookies and coffee and headed for the treadmill. Just like I had planned.
iPod blaring. Belt screaming. I ran the fastest 5k I’ve done in a long time.
And I felt amazing.
Forget the way I woke up. I changed that. I chose to change it.
Now I felt amazing. Head clear. Motivated. Hungry for more.
The power that we give to scales. To that stupid number. The scale can set us up for a wonderful day or start us off feeing defeated. Forget the choices we made. Veggies we ate. Water we drank. Sweets we passed up. Miles we walked. All of a sudden all that matters is that stupid number.
This girl is done focusing on it.
This girl is going to focus on eating right. Moving more. Not because I want to see the number budge on the scale. Because I want to be proud of my choices. Feel good about what I’m eating. Feel energized by my workouts.
My head was in a bad place.
It had nothing to do with my weight or the stupid number on the stupid scale.
It had everything to do with my choices.
And it’s up to me to change that.
It’s up to you to change it.
Resist the urge to let the scale dictate how you feel.
Take the power away from the scale. From the number.
Put the power into your choices. Your actions. You achieving your goals. You killing your goals.
I will use that to fuel this fire in me.
I dare you to do the same.