So this past week, on my very worst day (I binged for lunch and completely skipped my morning workout, crabby beyond death and drank like zero water all day) I stepped on the scale. Why? I'm not sure. Probably just to make myself feel even worse for some convoluted reason. Whatever. But the results were not in tune with my mood/motivation for the day. I lost SIX EFFING POUNDS. In one week. WTF. How is this even possible?
And even more strange, I decided to torture myself for another day and stepped on the scale last Saturday after a few great days of good eating and productive workouts. Gained all of it back. All six pounds, sitting right there, back on the scale. Staring back at me down there on the readout. Just mocking me. If the scale could have spoken, I believe it would have whispered in a conniving voice, "Ha ha. You thought you had this whole thing figured out. Think again, fatass."
So, I'm taking the advice of the great Lisa Rambo, Biggest Loser Queen of the World and someone who greatly inspired me early in my weightless journey. "Don't Quit You." Don't quit. You are worth so much more than a number on the scale. It doesn't measure your happiness on the days you workout and feel super accomplished. It can't measure that awesome meal you made the other night that was healthy and delicious. The number on that scale is merely a numerical representation of your body's physical relationship to gravity. Nothing more and nothing less.
So forget it. I'm not weighing myself until the end of February. Eat your heart out, scale. I'll see you at the end of the month.