Last week I didn't get to go to my normal Sunday morning weigh-in / meeting which I was totally bummed about - I had remained true to program and know I would've had a good weigh-in. In fact, all week I was trying to find time to go to a meeting just to weigh in. Finally, this past Friday I got to a meeting and had lost 1.7 pounds. Not too shabby! That brought my weight loss, since recommitting, to nine glorious pounds! Yay for me!
The lady who had weighed me in said, "You're doing a beautiful job. Keep it up."
I strutted out of that meeting with my head held high. Proud of my work. Nine pounds! Almost ten pounds in one month! Woo hoo!!
But not so fast.
I returned to my normally scheduled meeting this morning (just two days after the Friday weigh in). I had two more pretty solid days of tracking my points and keeping it together. I even had a return to running yesterday and knocked off 2 miles at a good pace considering it's been two months since I've really run. Now I wasn't really expecting much of a loss in two days. Maybe a quarter to a half a pound... Maybe I would stay the same. Maybe I would even hit the ten pounds lost milestone... Wouldn't that be something!? But what I didn't expect was a gain - and a big one at that. Somehow the scale informed me that I was up 2.2 pounds... since Friday! Sucked the wind right out of my sails.
My Weight Watcher leader thinks it could've been my return to running. My muscles retaining some water. Who knows. Instead of being down 9 pounds and close to 10 - it's now 6.8 lost. And I now have that feeling of going backward.
I know in my heart of hearts that there is no way I gained a real 2.2 pounds but then why do I still feel scale shame? Why do I still feel that sense of failure?
I mean I didn't fail this week! I worked my ass off. I skipped into that meeting room feeling good about all the good things I did last week. But that freakin' scale.
I said no to so many tempting foods and situations last week.
I killed my fitness goal of earning 72 fit points (and earned 85!). I started running again. I made homemade foods. I made many good choices when eating out and tracked every bite. I'm 100% more mindful of my decisions.
Nope - I'm not perfect. I could drink more water and less wine.
I still want to add some strength training.
But overall I was on plan and did well. I did not deserve a 2.2 pound gain.
How come the scale can just knock all of those good feelings of doing well right from your hands?
The scale is a funny thing. I mean I know on an intellectual level that it's no true testament to all the good things I'm doing for my body, my health and my well-being. I know intellectually that anything from extra sodium, to exercise to "that time of the month" can affect the scale. Yet, emotionally, it's hard to not let it be the dictator of everything. It plays with your mind and the negative thoughts can come flooding back, just like that. "Can I really do this?" "If I can't lose weight when I'm really trying, forget it. Why bother?"
|I'm replacing real noodles with zucchini "zoodles" |
for the love of God!
So now what? I mean all I can do is dust myself off and stay the course. All I can do is try to not freak out about the freakin' scale. All I can do is list all of my "whys" in doing this and hold onto them with both hands.
All I can do is remind myself that the scale is not a judge and jury. The number on the scale doesn't define if I'm a good or bad person and it doesn't take away all the right things I'm doing.
I am more than the number on the scale. My pants are fitting better and I'm feeling better. That counts!
What do you do when you're faced with a disappointing weigh in?