I’m not sure why I did it in the first place, but I weighed myself this morning. My rule is to reserve that for Thursdays, so as to not get caught up in the fluctuations throughout the week. It’s a good rule, I like it. But I broke it this morning and the scale did not say what I wanted it to say.
I had the moment of panic that I always have when the scale bites me in the butt, then I redressed (one must always weigh themselves in the raw so as to not add on extra poundage) and went to eat breakfast.
My morning meal is the same every day and also my favorite of the day. It’s my favorite, because it’s fabulously healthy and since I haven’t eaten for 12 hours or so, it is guilt-free. Just how I like to eat.
As I was eating I was thinking about the bloody scale and mulling over all the advice I’ve given on the subject of weight to people in my life. One of the things I always say is, “Make sure you have clothes that fit you well and you feel good in.” Relatively speaking I’m the same size as usual, my cushy butt is just a little cushy-er, but I’ve been reluctant to wash my work pants for fear of The Dryer, i.e. not being able to button them when I get them out.
Well, I had the day off from my internship, so it was a most excellent time to remedy this little problem. So, I showered, shaved (no use feeling nasty when you’re trying to feel better), made sure I was liking how my eyebrows looked, put myself together, and off to the closest Maurice’s (my favorite store) I went.
For the next two hours I had a fabulous time moving in and out of the dressing room, finding things I liked, things I loved, and things that were a definite *no*. I didn’t feel bad one bit about getting the sizes I needed to feel good in, and I made sure in between outfits to take a look at myself in the mirror and like what I saw. And I did like it. Even a little extra cushy.
If I could go back to birth and have the opportunity to choose my body type, I would pick the one I have. It lends itself very nicely to a relatively trim waist line, even when my fanny feels the need to be anal (haha… ew) about retaining every ounce of ice cream I eat. I suppose I could give that up… but I won’t. “All things in moderation,” my mother always says.
Oh, and I was liking my belly-button ring when I was looking in the mirror. It’s so sexy.
Anyway, I bought some pants and a couple sweaters (I love sweaters) and then happily went somewhere else (W, I’m not saying where) to get some office supplies to help me finish getting my life in order. Then I went home and ate lunch. Just like I would if the scale had been nice to me, meaning I ate vegetable soup and a moderate serving of ice cream (for the sake of my mental health). Following my delicious lunch I set about cleaning the bathroom to a sparkling shine.
After that, while I was still jacked up to my iPod, I went to get my running clothes out of my closest. While I was there I picked out two sweaters I don’t wear anymore to send to Goodwill, to replace the two I bought. Don’t want to be in the habit of acquiring “things.” Then I threw my running clothes down next to me sat down in my comfy, comfy chair…
I didn’t move again for a half an hour. It was just a moment to be embraced. I was unusually relaxed and already had my iPod in head. So, I left it on Shuffle and let Susanne Ciani, Lucia Unrau, Simon & Garfunkel, and any other mellow music that came on ooze into my brain.
When I felt like it was okay to move again, I dressed in my running garb and went out into the 17 degree weather to get at least five miles in, just like I would have if the scale had said what I wanted.
So, that’s how I do it. I know that my normal life with my normal habits maintains a certain weight. Therefore, I don’t need to freak out (I still do sometimes) when the torture machine decides to hate me. Sometimes, like today, I just have to remind myself that I may not be at the exact weight I want today, but I can be happy today. So today… I was. Happy.