I confess that I gave in this morning and climbed on to the scale. I admit it. I broke my scale fast. It happened to be a positive experience. I have now lost 27 pounds. I felt great as I looked at those beautiful numbers!
I enjoyed the baggy feeling of my jeans and reveled in the growing gap between my stomach and the buttons and zipper on the front. Those numbers will hold me emotionally for a couple of days. I will not get on the scale again until next week. Apparently I need to do a little check every four or five days to keep me on target.
I notice that when I do not check the weight I feel as if I am drifting emotionally. When I am not absolutely certain what I weigh, I get nervous. I have trouble believing that all my efforts are paying off. I do not have enough faith that by doing the right thing over and over again with food and exercise, I will eventually be successful. The scale looms over me as a mental salvation, a goad and also something fearful. I guess finding a balance between those three things is the trick.
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