I never post here. I'm going to try to make more of an effort, though, for I think I need the accountability.
At the end of my weight loss efforts, I weighed 129. I took a picture of the scale. That was the summer of 2007. I maintained that all winter. I had hernia surgery in the spring of 2008 and weighed 135 on the hospital scale. 5 pounds, not bad. Still better than the 210 I had started with.
I had a sever IT band injury in the fall of 2008 running a half marathon. I tore my calf muscle February 2009. I had a miscarriage May 2009. I severely pulled my piriformis muscle fall 2009.
I knew my weight was up but I purposely did not get on the scale. When I was trying to lose weight, I was obsessive about it. I weighed every.single.day, often three or more times in one day. I made myself crazy. So I stayed off the scale, and I knew that my weight was going up.
When I was in Grand Cayman this week, I went into the changing room at the gym. There was a scale there, and I stood in front of it for a good two minutes. Do I want to get on it, I thought to myself. I did, kind of. I was curious to know what I weighed. I knew, though, that the number had the power to ruin my entire weekend. If it was high, I'd obsess and fret about it nonstop. But I really did want to know, and so I made a promise to myself. No matter the number, it doesn't define you. It could say 170 and you are still lighter than you were 4 years ago. Your thighs are chunkier, yes, and your belly is looser. But you are strong and work out a lot, and if you aren't happy with that number, you have the power to change it. You know you haven't been the best with the food, so you know it's going to be high. Just get up there, already.
And so I did. 145.
I'm not going to lie and say that I love that number, but I'm ok with it. I know I need to get back to about 135-138, but I am glad to at least know where I stand.