So We Meet Again

I'm sure you all recognize the above image. The Scale. My mortal enemy. Throughout the years it has appeared regularly in my nightmares, cackling and taunting me. The very thought of stepping onto it at the doctor's office has caused me to cancel appointments.

But I didn't cancel my appointment yesterday. For the past few months, I have had to skip my weekly Weight Watchers weigh-ins because they coincided with my weekly team runs. I tried to stick with the e-Tools, but without those weigh-ins, I really had nothing to hold me accountable. So when I went in for my annual check up at the doctor's office yesterday after not getting on the scale for three months, I was terrified—and sure that I had gained all my weight back.

Before stepping onto the scale, I contemplated removing my jeans right there in the middle of the hallway—everyone knows they add about a pound!—but I thought better of showcasing my thong to the twelve year old boy in the room across from me, so I sucked it up and just got on. As the nurse moved the metal weight to the right—thud, thud, thud—I cringed. She wrote down the number on her chart, and I anxiously peered down at it.

The good news: When all was said and done, I had only gained 2 lbs. And probably only one with the jeans. Just sayin'.
The bad news: When all was said and done, I had gained 2 whole lbs. For the past three months, I haven't lost any weight. Boo.
The lesson: The weekly weigh-ins matter. Though the cackle of the scale rings in my ears and conjures up feelings of fear and inadequacy, I need it, because it is what ultimately keeps me in line.

So I just upgraded my membership from e-Tools only to a full, monthly pass. Weigh-ins start back up again next week. I have waged a full-on war with my mortal enemy, The Scale—a war I plan to win.