I gingerly stepped up on the scale, hiding my eyes with my hand. It had been five weeks since I’d faced a scale, five weeks without my TOPS (Take Off Pounds Sensibly) group to cheer me on, uplift me, keep me accountable. Five weeks in which there was a 20-day lapse in walking with my sister while her knee healed from an injury. Surely I had gained, but how much? Five weeks with no early morning writing pages as per Julia Cameron’s The Writing Diet book. Five weeks of avoiding the topic on here, and with my husband who nervously bit his lip when I wondered out loud about the advisability of dropping out of a support group. He knew better than to say anything, this wise man who has been married to me for over 31 years. If he agreed that I should re-join the support group, then I would take it as an insult, that he thought I needed to lose weight. If he disagreed, then I would twist it and say he wasn’t supporting me in my weight loss. So he remained silent.
Yet I knew that avoidance was not going to make the number go away. That I had to face it someday, sooner rather than later, since I had a doctor’s appointment coming up.
When another sister, who has recently lost a great deal of weight herself, mentioned weighing in every Thursday morning, I tentatively asked her if I could come over and weigh in at the same time. I don’t own a scale and I thought it was about time I took the “bull by the horns,” so to speak, and “face the music.” (In case you haven’t noticed before, I do like my idioms and axioms)
So Thursday morning was to be my first weigh-in at my sister’s house. Her scale was one of those digital ones, where you tap the front of the scale first, then wait until it registers ZERO before stepping on. So I did that, eyes grimaced shut, hand covering eyes, and then I peeked down at the number through my splayed fingers.
(You didn’t really think I was going to share that number with you, did you?)
I jumped off, waited, tapped it again, waited, then gingerly stepped back on.
I’d lost five pounds.
Five pounds in five weeks.
5 pounds added on to the 3 pounds I’d lost before that when I’d begun working my way through Julia Cameron’s book = a respectable 8 pounds total in 12 weeks. Hardly The Biggest Loser type of weight loss, but for a woman who hasn’t been this weight for over 14 years, a decent start.
Admittedly, this was a different scale than I’d been dealing with in the past two years, so I have to say I did have my qualms about claiming those five pounds until I saw the doctor yesterday, and his scale, too, registered that same difference.
I’d like to share with you my method of weight loss except I really am not sure what it was. It wasn’t the support group, since I dropped out. It wasn’t the walking, since I’d missed so many days of walking and didn’t substitute an equal amount of bike riding for it, either. It wasn’t even writing in my “morning pages” as Cameron suggests in her book. Instead, it had to be the fact that I’d been so busy these past 30 days that I was eating differently. I didn’t sit down and eat a big meal except for perhaps once or twice in those past 30 days. Instead, I grabbed a little chicken now and then, and a lot of fruits and vegetables throughout the day. A hand full of almonds, a protein bar. And when it was hot (and Iowa has been really hot this summer), I’d occasionally have a bowl of Special K with peaches.
I plan on weighing in at my sister’s house every Thursday, just for the accountability, and so I don’t back-slide.
So, if you’ve been avoiding the scale yourself for awhile, maybe it is time to face it.
You just might be surprised at the number.