Number Hater

I do not love the scale. I don’t own a scale. For me, it is more about how I feel about and how I look than that number that the scale measures. I can tell when I am heavier than I prefer. My clothes don’t feel good or look good. I feel bulgy and jiggly. That was my feeling right before I went on vacation about a month ago, just kind of out of shape. I figured that I had better do something about it otherwise any vacation poundage would end up adding to an already too heavy me. I did really well for a while. I was exercising and trying to stick to my Weight Watchers points. Weight Watchers is the only place I step on the scale. It is the threat of my day. Plus they write it down. I don’t like it one bit.

But this day, I was feeling good. I had been fairly well behaved in my eating and had been consistently exercising for at least a couple of weeks. My pants felt a bit roomier than usual. More so than they had in a long time. So I was not prepared for the very bad number that came up on the scale at the Weight Watchers meeting at the YWCA. It was the worst number I had seen in a very, very long time. It was four pounds over my goal weight, the heaviest I had weighed in at since I re-joined about six years ago or so. I was stunned. I told the lady not to write it down and sort of ran out of the room.


I felt betrayed by my own body. I knew in my heart that that number was not right. I could feel it. Could feel it in the way that my clothes were fitting that it was not right. Despite this, my brain was kind of on a rampage. It felt betrayed and let down and then it decided to reverse the good lifestyle changes I had made. Just like that. In one millisecond that decision was made. And because I listened to my brain and not my heart, that number that was so awful that day, that number that I knew in my heart was not correct, is correct today. It is correct right now, as of last week. All because I didn’t just go with what I knew to be true.

Because of that bad choice, I am only now slowly getting back into not making bad food choices and consistently exercising. Of course, I imagine how much better off I had been moving forward instead of defeating myself. Maybe if I could have that millisecond back to make a better choice I would be able to. I know that despite this setback and being my own worst enemy that it will work out in the end. Next time, and in more matters than this, I hope that the truth that is in my heart is able to prevail.

About nematomorph

Living like the rich and famous, splitting time between Hawaii and New York.
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3 Responses to Number Hater

  1. I happily threw out my scale about 5 years ago. It was my best decision ever!

  2. Yeah, I hate the scale because it always tells me something I don’t want to know but I do need to know it.

  3. I had a similar experience this morning. My tummy felt tighter than usual and my clothes fit pretty comfortably and so I thought about hopping on the scale. As I approached the metal beast, I chickened out. I’m gonna still with the same routine and try for next week.

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