The Scale That Rules The World

I peeked.

I couldn't help it -- I weighed myself this morning. I hadn't in such a long time. When your clothes are tight and nothing looks good, you just know. But, I've been feeling better lately. (It may have something to do with the fact that I am on vacation and surrounded by my family who loves and supports me no matter what). Also, I've been running and have only had a few minor food incidences.

To my great surprise, the scale was kind. Now, I'm far from happy with my weight. I still don't fit into my clothes. I am simply accepting the number as a place to start and recognize that things could have been worse...much worse.

This fear of the scale -- where does it come from? I can be perfectly happy with myself, step on the scale, and become a swinging pendulum of emotions depending on WHAT THE SCALE SAYS. When did I lose so much control over my emotions to an inanimate object?

Well, whenever I lost control, I want it back. So, do I reject the power of the scale by avoiding it entirely? Or, do I battle the scale every day and try to swing my own emotions? I have never weighed myself every day, at most once a week. I have lost weight without regularly weighing myself, but (obviously) I have also gained weight using this haphazard method. Herein lies my first dilemma.

Another issue is scale discrepancies. Right now, I'm using my mom's scale and the earliest I'll be able to weigh-in with my scale is January 7th. What if there are major scale discrepancies and I instantly "gain" weight I had already mentally lost? That could be very sad for me. Should I wait to officially weigh myself until I can use my own scale? Or, is my scale innocence already gone, so what's the point of these questions anyway?

I think the latter. Good night.