Braving the Scale

It wasn’t so much fear of the scale that prevented me from using it. It was that I hadn’t dug it out of the mess in the garage. Not digging it out of the mess in the garage? That was out of so much fear of knowing that, once I dug it out, I would be weighing myself again. And I was freaked out.

I knew I’d gained weight. I knew that I wasn’t using my two tightest belt loops. I knew that pants that fit comfortably before all this were now snug, and I couldn’t just blame it on laundry done with hot water.

Logic said I probably gained about 10 pounds from the last time I’d weighed in. Fear said it was a whole lot more. It was worried to find out.

The good news? I gained about 6 pounds. A little more. Of course, I’d also gained some weight prior to my previous weigh-in. Major stress related to the wedding started in early April, and I started to fall behind on several goals. In all, from my lowest recent weigh-in (back in April), I’ve gained 10 pounds.

On the one hand, I get it. Let’s say a friend of mine walked up to me and said, “Hey, I just went through three months of stress for planning a wedding, taking care of a fiance who had pneumonia right before said wedding, and going to a grad school residency. And beyond that, I went really lax in eating and activity goals during the wedding itself and the subsequent honeymoon. Now I’ve gained 10 pounds.” My reply would be something like, “Well, yeah.” Maybe some empathy and stuff too, but mostly just that shrugging acceptance. Because that just seems like a reasonable situation in which to gain some weight. Three and a half pounds a month in that context doesn’t seem absurd.

But also, I’ve been working hard at this for a long while now. And feeling like I’m now set back to the weight I was at the beginning of March is disheartening. There are things I feel like I won’t get “access” to until I’m in better shape. The ability to do some more active things without holding others back. The ability to go on certain types of trips or do certain types of activities. That sort of deal.

Whatever. It’s good to know where I’m at. It’s good that it’s not what I expected (280). It’s good that it’s not worse than I feared. It’s good that I’m looking at the situation and re-focusing.

Plus, there’s this thing some Tarot cards told me tonight. (Long-ish explanation there, so I’m just skipping to the conclusion.) That, while it’s important and practical to focus on goals, this can lead to an unproductive sense of loss. What really matters in keeping in mind how I want to feel and behave and be kind to myself each day. That, while swift change is good, a focus on the goals without the core sense of actually wanting and being invested in the process (getting joy out of treating my body better, that is), I can easily work myself into a sense of helplessness.

So, yeah. I’m trying to pay attention to that, among other things. And I am, in fact, feeling pretty re-focused. (Did that liquid cleanse, followed by a mini liquid cleanse to soft reset after the sillyness of July 4th).

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