Reason #4,576 why I hate going to the doctor

They weigh you.

Yes, I was weighed today.

For the first time in a year.

Have I mentioned how much I hate the scale?

For me, I end up fixating on a number. A number which is arbitrary to begin with (in my opinion). A number that doesn’t tell the full story of how healthy or fit (or not) you may be.

And I swore this time, I would not fixate. I would not care what the number said on the scale today.

But secretly? I was hoping for a “good” number, better than last year’s (which was darn good given it showed a 10 lb loss from the year prior to that), even.

But no, the number was awful. Not what I expected at all. And yes, I totally beat myself up for it the minute it registered on the scale. And am *still* beating myself up for it as I write this very blog post.

Why? Why must we torture ourselves, ladies?? Especially for me – someone who firmly believes (despite what my beaten-up brain is fighting me on) that the number on the scale should not matter. It’s how you feel when you step off that treadmill, or throw your towel down after an amazing kickboxing class, weight-training class or Cathe DVD.

Yet here I am, spending half my day distracted by that NUMBER. I’m quite honestly embarrassed at myself for falling so easily for it, too. And for not getting over it yet, hours and hours after my appointment ended.

Oddly enough, I’m still harping on this after receiving (graciously!) a compliment from a friend earlier today who mentioned that I looked great, must’ve lost a bunch of weight, blah blah blah. To which I relayed this very story to her. She scoffed, saying not to worry about it, that I looked great and must be building muscle for the scale to register the way it did.

Received a similar response from my sister and from Scott, too. Scott asked me this:

Scott: How did you feel this morning when you woke up?

Me: Great.

Scott: There’s your answer. Who cares what the scale said.

And he’s right, my sis is right, my friend is right. But WHY does it bother me so much still???

I think because I’ve been working so hard in the past 6 months or so that I just assumed the “number” would be a nice finishing touch, NOT that I needed it for my hard work to be validated. At least, I didn’t think I needed that. Apparently, I did.

Well, it’s time to fully accept the fact that the number on the scale is just that: a number. It’s done and over with and it does not, and should not matter.

There.

Done.

I’m moving on. (ok, so it’s not quite so easy as it sounds, can I have until the end of the day to get over it, please??).

And PS. I’m totally looking into having my metabolism tested (similar to what Naomi did recently) to see exactly what my resting metabolic rate is so I can figure out if I’m eating the right amounts of foods for the high level of activity I do week-to-week. Part of me wonders if that number today was a sign that my problem is not that I’m “fat” but that my body is fighting to hold onto the pounds because I’m burning more calories and not eating enough to make up for the deficit. Something to think about…