Our scale is tucked away in the basement, in a frigid, dark little room. Even through the cotton rug, the tiles are painfully cold on my bare feet. It’s not an inviting room, not one where I have any desire to linger. Avoiding it between weekly weigh ins is easy. It’s actually walking in and stepping on the scale that’s hard.
I dodged the moment of truth, procrastinated a few days.
Having no drop in my weight after 10 days of dieting was disappointing. The thought of having it not drop again after three weeks without chocolate would have been devastating. Three weeks of no dessert. Three weeks of sweat. Three weeks of being really, really good just had to yield results.
All that work paid off. Four glorious pounds were chiseled away. Four pounds thinner. Four pounds fitter. And it felt great.
Onwards. In seven more days, I’ll step back on that scale again, braced for disappointment. But for now, I’ve had a taste of success, and it tasted sweet.
Good for you! My scale is in my bathroom and I do a morning weigh-in. Talk about obsessive
I do find it has kept me on track weight-wise over these many years.
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Congrats!
I know how good is that feeling. At least now you know it worth all those hassles!
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