My scale has been lying to me all week. It says I've not been eating right and exercising. It says I'm actually gaining weight. It says I'm a failure.
But that's just ridiculous. I have been eating right. I have been exercising. I have been successful this week. The scale just doesn't realize it.
I know that I've succeeded. I know that I've felt better this week. I know that I've made better choices.
So why do I find myself listening to the scale? It doesn't have the brain, I do. So why do I let it intimidate me? Why do I let it rule my feelings?
I guess because the number on the scale has affected my sense of self-worth all my life. Even though I'm (chronologically at least) all grown up now, I become a 13 year old girl the minute my feet hit the scale. I become defined--at least for a moment--by that number.
But that is a choice I'm making isn't it? I can choose to believe a hunk of metal that tells me I'm a failure. Or, I can believe the truth: the truth I know, the truth I lived, the truth that's real.
Increasing truth, decreasing falsehood,
Aileen
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I tried once to only let myself on the scale once a week ... but I couldn't make it past a few days. Oh, those numbers! :)
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