Friday, February 08, 2008

Weight Watchers

I must admit that I've become one recently. No, not attending meetings at Weight Watchers, rather I've been stepping on the scales a couple of times a week. I know, I know, I shouldn't do it, but it's almost like I'm enjoying the gambling buzz that comes just before you step on that scale. Will this be the morning I hit the jackpot?

Come oooooon lucky number lower-than-last-time!

This morning was a bust. Let's say, if I was playing at a casino, the house'd own me. And if it was in a sleazy movie, the casino boss's underling, with a lascivious leer and bit of wink-wink-nudge-nudge, would offer to come to some sort of arrangement to help me repay my debt.

In that moment when I saw the number flashing on the little computer screen my innards went nova. This was way beyond throwing myself on the floor and having a tantrum. My inner weight watcher picked up the scale in my mind and threw it against the wall and then when that wasn't good enough she kicked it around the bathroom a few times, then lofted it out the window. Of course, being an imaginary scale, it didn't break after falling two floors. It merely continued to flash that stupid number at her. Bastard of a thing. Need to get a batter imagination!

In reality I stomped out of the bathroom, saying some awful things to myself and the scale in equal measure as I yanked my clothes on. At one point I blurted out, "That can't be right!"

"What?" asked Alaskaboy in all innocence.

"The scale," I whined. "It says that I'm 227 lbs. That CAN"T be right!"

In his quiet way, he didn't respond with words. He walked over to the bathroom and jumped on the scale himself. He was up three pounds from yesterday.

Funny that. We both ate the same meals yesterday, except I had an afternoon snack, and he had an after dinner one. Also, as Alaskaboy reminded me, the last few days we've been eating vegetarian but yesterday we had a burger combo for lunch.

To scales everywhere, but mine in particular, I say this!


This morning's reaction, and number, is why I'm feeling a mite foolish. I know all this about the scales. I know how untruthful they are. I've known for years. And yet still when I'm feeling unsure of myself or in need of self castigation or an excuse to give up, I resort to my bestest enemy.

I don't need some number on a scale to tell me I feel good about myself. In fact, it usually ends up making me feel the opposite. By buying into the lower number good and higher number bad mentality I'm hurting myself, in a big way.

Last night on our walk, I remarked to Alaskaboy how much better I'm feeling. My legs feel stronger. When doing laps of the courtyard, I used to be puffing and ready to stop by three quarters of a mile. Now, I'm ready to keep going when it's time to stop at a mile. In fact, last night we did a mile and a half, and I still felt good. This is a huge improvement in just 15 days.

Yet, I chose to ignore that sense of achievement and health and headed straight for the scale this morning. I think in some corner of my mind I was thinking that that level of feeling great had to have transferred to an equal result on the scale. No, no it hadn't. But if I hadn't taken the time to sit down and think it through, and without my husband's insightful responses, I'd probably be sitting here plotting ways to stuff myself stupid.

And this is the point, once again, that I realise I need to ask him to hide the scales once more. I can't ask him to throw them out because he does have a healthy relationship with them and so will I have eventually. But at the moment, I'm using them as both a crutch and a flagellum, so away they go. I won't be bringing them back out until I finish my one hundred days challenge...and perhaps not even then.

I feel great. I'm increasing my cardio endurance. And since the walking at the moment is toning my lower body quite nicely, I'm also hoping to start a light upper body training program when we get back from our Pennsylvania holiday. My tastebuds have mostly returned. I'm sleeping through the night. I'm happy. I'm loved. I'm writing again.

All of these things matter.

The scales don't.

Well, whatta ya know. That was a different kind of weight watching. I watched myself measure up the scale in comparison to other means of judging health, and I picked the one that carried the most weight.

Sorry, couldn't help the pun.

1 Nibbles:

Wanna_B_slimmer said...

Well done on the exercise front... It is hard not to use the scales to measure success... my day is always crappy when I have had a gain... not many days go by when i dont step on those nasty creatures!!!
I must be into self torture...
Take care...