Some of you read the post I wrote a month ago here, where I mentioned how my husband thought I looked a little smaller. Well, I was sure he was wrong. But then I started paying attention to how all my clothes fit.
I was the one who was wrong. Ultimately, I got out the measuring tape that I had ignored for the last few months. I've lost an inch.
I don't think that's especially surprising. Since I quit the scale for a year, I have kept up a workout routine that I didn't previously have. In the last six weeks or so, I have managed to quit my overeating habit (this plagued me for one meal each night: dinner, the most interesting meal of my day). I had reason to drop a bit. I also quit eating dates wrapped around unsweetened chocolate at night - an innocent enough habit, until my consumption went from 2 dates to 13 dates a night.
What was surprising was the emotional roller coaster the knowledge of my weight loss took me for. First, I reveled in the loss. Next, I started stressing that I was going to regain. Most nights I would consider my overall intake for the day and wonder if it had been too much. I wanted to maintain, but wasn't sure what was going on because I couldn't weigh myself. There was also the pesky problem of my favorite capris being too loose - I know, huge problem. However, I feel like I'm constantly in need of new clothes because of my changing body - weight loss, pregnancy, breastfeeding, weight loss, pregnancy, breastfeeding, weight loss, etc. I really desire a reliable wardrobe.
Then a thought struck me. Do I even want to lose weight? And if I didn't care about losing weight, why was I so stressed out? The obvious answer was to chill, move on, and practice healthy eating habits - same as I had been doing before.
So I moved on. Wonderful, right?
The lack of knowledge still torments me though. My mom visited in the last week, and pictures of me were taken so that I could truly see myself from the angle others saw me - I'm slender, and have more tone than ever before (it isn't much, but still). But I also indulged more last week than the usual habits that got me that one inch loss. So I still worried.
Ultimately, I don't think completely getting rid of the scale is the right thing for me. Weighing myself quells my anxiety. And, while that number isn't necessarily an accurate reflection of what's going on inside, it brings my mind some peace. It was my husband who said that, after this year, I might want to go back to weighing myself - if only once a month. For now, I think that'll be my long-term plan after my year is up.
But I still have five months left!
Then a thought struck me. Do I even want to lose weight? And if I didn't care about losing weight, why was I so stressed out? The obvious answer was to chill, move on, and practice healthy eating habits - same as I had been doing before.
So I moved on. Wonderful, right?
The lack of knowledge still torments me though. My mom visited in the last week, and pictures of me were taken so that I could truly see myself from the angle others saw me - I'm slender, and have more tone than ever before (it isn't much, but still). But I also indulged more last week than the usual habits that got me that one inch loss. So I still worried.
Ultimately, I don't think completely getting rid of the scale is the right thing for me. Weighing myself quells my anxiety. And, while that number isn't necessarily an accurate reflection of what's going on inside, it brings my mind some peace. It was my husband who said that, after this year, I might want to go back to weighing myself - if only once a month. For now, I think that'll be my long-term plan after my year is up.
But I still have five months left!
