Friday, November 23, 2012

Scales Are For Fish


I weighed 194.2 pounds on Thanksgiving morning.  In the last two months I've seen that number a handful of times.  I've also seen 194.8, 190.0 and every single number in between.  It's starting to fuck with my brain.

I weigh myself every day.  every.  single.  day.  I used to say it was so I could get "comfortable" with seeing the normal fluctuations and not freak out of the scale was up a bit.   In the beginning, I truly think that's where my mind was.  It's no longer in that place.  Now, I'm back to obsessing about that number.  That simple number that stares me in the face every morning.  I get out of bed and go pee.  I feed the dogs and wake the boys up.  Before I drink my coffee, before I even have a sip of water, I have to step on the scale.  That number determines my relationship with my food for the rest of the day.  Is it lower than I expected?  Good, then I can fudge a little and have a larger morning latte.  Is it too high?  Oh.  Well, then maybe since I can't decide what to eat, I just won't eat anything at all.  I'll have some water and wish the hunger pangs away.

That's not healthy.  I need to ditch the scale.  Lately I've been feeling soft, weak, fat.  I can tell by my clothes that I'm really haven't gained any of the weight back, but to be honest, I feel just as huge as I was nine months ago when I first walked into the local Crossfit.  I feel defeated when I walk into the gym, even before the workout starts.

So, for the next 5 1/2 weeks, I'm going to ditch the scale.  I told my husband to take it away and hide it from me.  I'm taking the focus off of weight loss and placing it back on my health (and my performance), where it should be.  I know what to eat to make me feel good; I know what to eat to fuel my workouts.  I'm going to completely focus on getting stronger and faster and to hell with what the scale says.

Wish me luck?