In order to explain the above statement here’s some tidbits of info about me. I am a yoyo when it comes to my weight. My yoyo is a seasonal phenomena. In the autumn and winter months I do my impression of Winnie the Pooh indulging in comfort food, which is never in short supply and due to the frigid temperatures my activity options narrow and I slow down, and plump out a bit. Then as soon as spring hits, the great outdoors beckon, I bump up the activity and by summers end, I am a lithe and limber Tigger, bouncing from one event to the next. It doesn’t overly concern me in the grand scheme of appearance and current social and media trends. I like to eat what I like to eat and I have maintained an very active lifestyle and for the most part those two opposing influences cancel eachother out.
That being said, I am not completely without vanity nor am I willing to opt out of my more physically demanding activities just yet due to poor fitness. This spring when I injured my leg, my usual physical activity slowed to a crawl, poutiness over said injury bumped up my junk food intake and my previous winters weight did not melt away. My fat pants became my everyday pants and even those began getting tight.
In September, realizing another autumn was just around the corner, I gave myself a shake and decided to remedy the situation. I created a scheduled fitness routine. Added a meal planning/calorie counting app to my phone and actually made a conscious effort to slough off some of the unwanted pounds. Resisting the seasonal treats has been challenging. But making myself aware of my calorie intake was a good step. I am not and probably will never be completely rigid on the calorie limit. I ENJOY food too much. But keeping an eye on portion sizes and enforcing moderation has kept me within my intake goals mostly. The activity has been enjoyable, though actually maintaining the schedule warred with my workoholic tendencies. But I am goal oriented so I quickly figured out that hiccup.
All in all I was proud of my efforts, I began feeling the benefits as well. Improved energy levels, better muscle tone, looser fitting clothing. I knew I was on the right track. Though I was dying of curiosity I refused to step on the scale. I was on a plan that was supposed to lose me 10 pounds in 5 weeks. I would only weigh myself every 5 weeks. Inside I was secretly gloating, I was exceeding some of my activity goals, crunching numbers in my head, I was thinking I was gonna be closer to a 12 pound loss.
Finally weigh in day arrived, I stepped on the scale and watched the dial settle. 7 pounds lost… My over achieving brain snapped! Only seven pounds???
Now, I know it was still a victory. I KNOW that in my logical brain. But in that moment, my mind flashed back to all my moments of restraint. The treats forgone, the crunches done. I threw a pretty impressive tantrum, I am glad only Sparks and Sir Griswald were witness to it. Sparks hid under the bed and Sir Griswald gave me one of his unimpressed ‘Daddy’ looks (to which I responded by sticking out my tongue).
Then I threw out the scale. I had to do it. I personally know that the benefits were way more then the numbers on that scale, but I do know that the disheartened feeling that came over me at the moment of truth, was gonna be counterproductive to achieving my goal. The urge to wallow in a pint of ice cream had been almost overwhelming in that moment.
I resisted and remained resolved, so on with my current routine I go. I am a little at ends because I do want to find some sort of measuring system to track my progress. I am thinking of doing measurements on a monthly basis. Maybe seeing inches disappear instead of pounds lost will provide more encouragement.
Well, that is my self pitying rant for the day. Hopefully it wasn’t too boring.