Tuesday, July 10, 2012


Someone pinned this the other day, and I love it.

And today, I kinda need that reminder. I'm having a bit of a war with my scale these days.

I am committed to weighing in every Monday. I used to weigh on the scale at Schaumburg LTF, but now that I've been going to Bloomingdale on Mondays, I'm using theirs. Back in the beginning of Monday weigh-in, I used the home unit, but then I thought maybe it was malfunctioning, which is why I relied on the one at the gym. But now and then, just to get an idea of where I'm at, I'll step on the one at home.

So let's look at recent history.

Last Monday, the home unit weighed me in at 212. The Bloomindale scale read 213.2. Mind you, I weigh at home in the morning, and at the gym at night, so it's somewhat logical that I would be a bit heavier at night. So I logged the 213.2 as the weight of record.

Yesterday, the home unit weighed me at 210.8. I accepted this as an awesome victory, and expected a similar - within a pound or so - result from the gym scale. Instead, I was greeted with ...


Really? Fuck you.

I didn't freak out (much). Because here's the thing: I feel 211. I trust 211. So this morning I hopped on the home unit (again. Shut up.) and it said 211.8. I am taking that as the number of record. That might mean that next Monday blows beyond belief, but that's the number this week.

I think I'm going to buy a new scale - one that doesn't suck - and just start relying on that. There's too much possibility for fluctuation among my other choices, and I just really don't want to freak out. But for the time being, I'm just going to remember that picture up there. My weight is just a number, explaining how I fit in amongst gravitational pull. The work, and the dedication to my health, can't be measured by anything except how I feel.

And I'm feeling pretty awesome.

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