Why Did I Do That?

Have you ever seen the show Mike and Molly? It stars Melissa McCarthy and Billy Gardell as Molly and Mike respectively. It is a comedy, as you can imagine with those two, about an overweight married couple. It is side holding funny most of the time. The fat kid things and the ways that they talk about food and weight loss hit home for me BIG TIME. On Monday the episode was celebrating the fact that Mike (Billy Gardell) has lost 50 pounds. It began with him squeezing into jeans he hadn't worn in ten years, albeit they were pretty tight. Everyone was congratulating him, he felt great. At lunch that day he treated himself to a piece of pie. His first cheat since he began losing. Next morning on the scale, he had gained 5 pounds. He was destroyed. The wind was swept right out of his sails. He decided he had to starve himself which led to an incredibly bad, low blood sugar, everything worked against him, kind of day. He skipped breakfast. He had to watch his work partner eat a giant to-go box of greasy noodles. He expressed he desire to trade metabolisms with his ever fit, junk-eating friend. He lashed out at someone at work. At the end of his day he was sitting on the couch telling Molly that he was barely hanging on. He wanted to know when every waking minute of his day wouldn't be spent worrying about what he put in his mouth. He wanted to know when it wouldn't be a constant struggle. At the end of the episode they went to an over-eaters anonymous meeting (something they do sometimes and where they met) and he talked about the fact that he needed to celebrate the healthy journey he was on, appreciate the fact that he was trying and not get upset (or too excited) about the numbers.

Why did I just summarize a TV show for you? Because, even though I totally related to it on Monday. Today I appreciate the real value of that episode.

I had to weigh my luggage for my trip that I am flying out for in few hours. I tend to over-pack and as it turns out, that can really cost you these days. That meant new batteries for the bathroom scale. I thought to myself, since the scale is up and running again and the FitBit is coming, I'll just check and see if I am close to where I think I am. No. Not close at all. I honestly thought I had about 50 pounds to go. In order to get to the high end of the weight range that I should be in according to the great health and body weight charts, I have 100 pounds to go. 97 to be exact. But basically twice as much weight as I thought I had. When I look at myself in the mirror I don't see a hundred extra pounds, but it must be there. I was destroyed. I have no idea how far I have come, and that is my own fault, but I was not expecting this blow this morning. My Mom, in her infinite wisdom, told me I need to measure, not weigh. She is correct. So, Monday, when I am back from my trip, that is exactly what is going to happen. I am in the exact place that Mike is. I am (was) feeling good about my progress, am starting to fit into jeans that I like and can appreciate their size, I am feeling good in general from all the exercise and healthy eating. Why does a number on the scale have so much damn power over me!?!?!?! I am presented with several options today...

1) Throw away the scale.

While this option is currently the most appealing, it isn't the scales fault. I did this, not it. It is just calling like it sees it. Hiding from what it is telling me is probably not the most (mentally) healthy option.

2) Go into full on starvation mode in an attempt to see some rapid, if torturous results.

Probably my least healthy option. I could go on a juice cleanse and drop 40 pounds in the next month and feel like I am getting something done. I have done it before, I know how it works. I would have to forgo all the lean muscle I have been trying to build. I would have to be OK with not eating anything solid for a while. I would have to accept the fact that my hair will fall out in another 4 months. Again, probably not the healthiest of options.

3) Get depressed.

I could just say f*@$k it and decide that I am supposed to be fat. All this work is for nothing, and just settle into a life of pudgy shame. But, I don't want pudgy shame, I want happy healthy.

4) I can keep on keeping on.

Until I stepped on that scale this morning I was feeling pretty good about myself and all the work I have been doing. Why stop now just because I have a measurement for it?

I'm going to go with door number 4. I am going to keep trying as hard as I have been trying. I'm not going to stop eating because A) I like to eat, B) It isn't healthy not to, and C) It isn't the right answer in the long run. I am going to keep exercising because I like it. I didn't hate myself in the mirror at yoga yesterday. That is a huge step. I didn't hate myself when I was lifting weights and doing push-ups this morning. Why should I decide to hate myself today just because I stepped on a scale? I don't have the answer to Mike's question. I don't know when every waking minute won't be about losing weight or making weight loss choices. But, I do know that I am not letting that scale dictate my program. I will measure. I will stay active. I will eat right. I will win. I'm the tortoise these days, instead of the hare, slow and steady wins the race.