So Sunday morning I walked down the hall and past the hall bathroom…. it is at this point, almost daily, that this little nagging internal voice reminds me not to step on the scale and get discouraged…… to which, I argue with the voice and say “If I don’t step on it… how will I know when it changes?”
Usually this argument continues all the way to the kitchen where the nagging voice wins by throwing down the, “but your clothes fit better” card, and I decide, while pouring my morning cup of coffee, to avoid the scale for yet another day……
I realize that I may have just disclosed to you a bit of mental illness, this talking to myself, but that wasn’t really the point……
On Sunday, I told the voice flat out to just shut up….. and I squeezed my eyes closed real tight, and took a deep nervous breath, and stepped right up on that evil white contraption. I slowly opened my right eye, keeping the left one firmly shut, just in case.
As I peered down to my toes, which I can now see on a regular basis without needing spandex…. I saw a glorious sight…..
The number has gone down!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I squealed. Kinda loud….
I started this adventure at 225lbs….. I have gone as high as 230 in the first two weeks and on Sunday…. it read 220. So I am not sure if I have lost 10 lbs or just 5…. either way I don’t really care. I was just jazzed to see a lower number on that thing.