Forsaken (by the scale)

This morning was one of those mornings. Do you ever have those? I’m sure you do. Hell, we all do. I was woken up by my kitties meowing at me angrily because they decided they could go no longer survive without getting petted. The coffee maker was in a mood and leaked coffee all over my counter and the grounds overflowed into the pot. However, in all fairness, this was my fault. It’s a new coffee maker for me and I forgot to put the lid back on the pot before brewing which is apparently CRUCIAL. But now I know. My head was out of it because I was busy thinking about the number on the scale this morning.

You see, I’ve been gaining weight this week and seeing that number on the scale was very disheartening because I feel like I’ve been doing well. Not perfect, but not terrible.

After my morning weigh-in (which I don’t do everyday. I’ve learned my lesson in the past from that.) I started making breakfast. While cooking and feeling myself spiral downwards in my own head, Kristen woke up and almost immediately knew something wasn’t right with me. We talked about it and I felt a little better. Her relentless logic can have that effect on me.

There are several perfectly logical reasons why the scale would betray me like that. I’ve been sick all week with a very annoying cold. Sick can certainly make your body do all sorts of weird things. Like retain water and get all puffy. On Sunday I ate WAY too much unhealthy food because I went out to eat with Kristen and her mom for Kristen’s birthday and the deliciousness was certainly bountiful. Last night, as an early birthday present, we also got a milkshake (to share) and ate TOO MANY chips and dip. My body has also been confused with the switch back to eating well after a month and a half of eating a lot of junky foods. The PCOS goblins have been running amok and I haven’t had a period since….August, I think?

So yeah, plenty of reasons why I would see the number I did this morning. But the hard part was thinking about the good I’ve done the past few weeks. I’ve been eating well a large majority of the time and been going to the gym almost everyday. Hell, my body might just be doing that whole building muscle thing and so I may not be losing numbers on the scale but might be turning fat into muscle. Which is a good thing.

But it’s still just frustrating as fuck. It’s all too easy for your mind to convince you that it’s all for naught. What’s the point, right? I’ve certainly given up at a road block like this in the past, even though deep down, logically, I know that’s silly.

So I’m going to do the only thing I can think of. I’m going to go to the gym today. And I’m going to workout like normal. I’m not going to overexert myself in a fit of self-flagellation. I’m going to move forward, trying to make the best choice I can in each moment. I’m going to take care of me and put my faith in my body that doing so will lead to the results that I want.


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