Ok I don't know how many of you feel the same way but I dread the weekends just a bit (ok a lot) because I'm out of my routine. However, this past weekend I felt good about it--I went to the gym Sat (6 times last week) and kept my eating in check and drank lots and lots of water. At work, I'm part of a weigh-in club that meets quickly Friday morning before we start teaching. Well today I happened to be in the staff room this afternoon and there it was, THE SCALE. I couldn't help myself, I had been so good this weekend, it didn't matter that I just weighed in on Friday, I hopped on because surely all my effort would be rewarded. I was up 3lbs--WTF!?! I got off deflated.
Tonight when I got home from work, I was changing into my casual clothes (AKA flannels and a comfy T) and I noticed how muscled my thighs had become. And lo and behold, I had an actual bum, not just a continous spanse of flesh from my knee to my hip. So while I know the scale is a measure of success, it will not be my measure of success. My success will be measured by how long I can run and pull my kids in the wagon, without stopping to catch my breath, how I feel when I try clothes on that fit, not just cover me, and by what matters most--how much effort I put into living my best life....so the scale will see me on Friday, but just Friday. I have other friends that I would much rather spend my life with.
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