Oh man, I’m really being tested with this “don’t weigh myself” philosophy.
Back in October, I wrote a post called Step away from the scale. In it, I discussed my belief that the bathroom scale (and more specifically the number on that scale) was marketed and made mainstream so that we will become chained to it, put all of our self-worth on what it tells us, etc.
Well, I did great not stepping on the scale for the rest of the year.
I also did great not caring what I ate, not eating anything healthy, never exercising, and straight-up not giving a rip. It was the holidays. I was down. I definitely didn’t do things the way I had intended.
Well, New Years rolled around. I had starting to muffin-top out of the top of my pants. I found myself wearing jackets even when I wasn’t cold. I had gained weight, and there was no denying it.
Of course, New Years (as it does for me every year) signifies the time when I’m going to stop being a lazy cow, and instead work on getting myself fit and sexy. I set goals and resolutions. And then I set out to accomplish them.
Yet, as much as I wanted to, I had a hard time forcing myself out the gate this year. I was feeling too okay with my current weight, while at the same time I was feeling a great need to get in shape again.
And, now for a confession session. When I wrote that post, I threw away my scale. But… I then dug it out of the trash and stuck it in the back of a closet. No use throwing away a fine machine like that, I reasoned.
And, a few days ago I pulled it out and stared at it. I wanted to weigh myself. I wanted to step on that scale and see just how worthless I had made myself. So, I did.
And I had gained nearly 20 lbs since I last weighed.
And I felt like a smear on the toilet seat.
And I drowned my sorrows in a plate of fresh baked cookies and a bag of M&Ms.
And I resolved to not do that again and to officially get going.
And the next couple days I still didn’t get going.
And I felt like a bigger smear on a toilet seat.
And so I drowned my sorrows with even more food.
Here I had been feeling great. Here I had been motivated to get healthy. Here I had been feeling okay about the way I looked. Here I had all the right mindsets going. But it wasn’t good enough.
I wanted to hate myself as motivation.
So I stepped onto that damned scale.
And it worked. At least the hate myself because of a number part. The motivation part, not so much.
This time, I’m throwing it away, and it’s staying in the trash.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing
PS, what did you do after you read that post? How did the holidays effect your waist line and your self esteem? I, for one, believe in that more now than I did when I wrote it.