I hate my scale

I've have avoided writing a new blog post because I hate my scale. How do these two things even come close to comparing to each other?  I have no idea. They just do.  My psychosis is such that my self-esteem is based in large part on what the scale says. Somehow this doesn’t affect my generally optimistic disposition during the day, but it also hasn’t seemed to affect what I put in my mouth between 8pm and midnight each night.

I dread the scale. When I see it each morning it makes me anxious. I can’t get out of the bathroom fast enough and I scold myself for not having the courage to face any poor eating or exercise trends I have developed. Thankfully this daily affliction only lasts as long as it takes for me eat breakfast because there isn’t a chance in hell I will stand on a scale with more than a cup of coffee in my stomach.  The thought is banished from my mind until the next morning.

Doesn’t everyone have a ritual when they get on the scale?  No?  Just me then, okay. (AWKward) The ritual is always the same. As I stand on the scale, in my head, I round up my weight to the next ten pound increment. So even if I put on a few pounds it’s still less than what I just thought I weighed in my head just a second ago. If everything has gone according to plan I have lost weight or maintained weight. In my reality it is never good to put on weight. 

When I am on a training and nutrition tear (and happy with how my body feels), I’ll get on the scale fairly often, maybe twice a week because I know the numbers are trending down. If I think those numbers are going up or my clothes are feeling tighter, I’ll avoid it until I have strung together a few days of solid nutrition and exercise to hedge my results.

Today I fought my demons and stepped on the scale. I haven’t stood on it since the day I left for the iron distance triathlon I did at the end of July. I really felt due to the lack of iron distance training, that in the last five weeks I’ve put on weight. I haven’t. I’ve maintained my weight from taper week.  I’m gobsmacked because Lord knows I’ve significantly increased my peanut M&M and beer consumption.  

I’ll take today as a good sign. Like most everyone I feel better about myself when I weigh less, even if it’s just five or ten pounds.  So I’ll take the positive from this morning and start making some changes to my nutrition for the better, which really means cutting out the unconscious eating between 9pm and midnight.

It is not enough to exist, I am going to live.