My love/hate relationship with the scale
I think many of you probably feel the same way about the scale as I do. When it’s good to you, you love it. But when the numbers betray all of your hard work (or so you think), you hate it. It’s funny how one little piece of electronics can hold such sway over my happiness.
I’m sure many of you are saying numbers don’t matter, don’t get obsessed. I agree, to an extent, that there should be more to happiness than the numbers on the scale. Other indicators for me include how my clothes fit, being able to do ten push-ups on my toes (instead of my knees) when I previously couldn’t. Little victories, like these, really contribute to my overall mental well-being. But at the end of the day, the numbers still matter.
When I was doing Weight Watchers, my day-before prep for the weigh-in was extensive (and stressful). I would find myself concocting crazy schemes to make the numbers go down, even if I hadn’t done the work to actually have it happen. On bad weeks, I hated going to weigh-ins. I’d do pre weigh-ins at home to manage my own expectations. I have to admit, I’m still kind of guilty. Since I’m tracking my weight on my own now, I only record it when it’s down. Isn’t that terrible?
There’s just something about the scale and the numbers on it that telegraph to me success or failure.