My relationship with my precise to the tenth decimal place digital scale has been somewhat like this:
About two months ago I forced myself to come to acknowledge that it wasn't that my bathroom scale had become sentient and it's favourite activity was to ruin my day. Sure I knew it all along, but to admit it was an entirely different thing.
So I started to move more. I am a strange bird. I love sports. There is no reason why I don't work out more often except that I'm lazy or I'd rather do other things with my time. You constantly read things online about how one must make time to to work out and in the past few months I have. A little.
It's a thin line between trying to lose a few pounds and becoming obsessed for me. I weigh myself every morning. Most doctors say that's a really bad idea and I agree. When the scale doesn't show me I've magically lost 2 kg despite having eaten sensibly and gone for a run I feel utterly defeated. On the other hand when I've sat on my ass all day and had a massive meal and still lost a few hundred grams it feels like a triumph. What's a girl to do?
The truth is I don't follow any diet. I know what's bad for me. I know when my portion sizes are excessive. I know when that second helping of whatever I've cooked that day isn't necessary because I'm not actually hungry any more. I know that refined sugar does nothing good for my body. I don't need some celebrity diet or self help book to tell me those things because no one knows my body better than I do.
For the past two months I've been listening to myself and trying to make better decisions. Yesterday I went for that long walk and so I didn't begrudge myself a big hunk of baguette with grilled sausages. I came home and had a lovely salad for dinner and when I went to the little fair down the hill I had a cola flavoured slushie. I love slushies. I don't own a slushie machine. It was a little treat.
But then I came home and my stomach was rumbling. I had a glass of water and waited. My stomach rumbled again. I declined an off of chocolate ice cream and decided to snack on a bit of cucumber instead with a bit of hot sauce (that might sound gross but it's a Korean thing). My stomach stopped rumbling and I went to bed.
When I lose weight I know without stepping on the scale too. I know because in the morning my body feels "happy". I don't know how else to explain it. I move differently and my body seems more pleased to drag me out of bed. I couldn't wait to step on the scale and see what walking 7km+ burned off. Apparently not as much as I thought.
But I looked thinner. I could see it in the mirror. I stepped back on the scale. Hmmm.
So I dug out a dress that used to fit me before I put on the latest batch of kilos. No way it was going to even get on me I thought. I put it on and while it was still pretty tight and I wouldn't dare wear it in public, it did sort of fit. The last time I deluded myself into thinking it might fit it got stuck and I was pretty sure I was going to have to ask someone to cut me out of it. This time I had to shimmy a little, but it came off pretty easily.
The moral of this story is that the scale isn't an all-knowing demigod. It can't even differentiate between fat and muscle and while muscle doesn't "weigh more" than fat, it takes up a lot less space. I measured myself at one point to see how much less space my fat was taking up, but it's a much slower way to track your progress and can be even more demoralising than stepping on the scale. If you're like me and your weight gain has been gradual, keep some clothes on hand to help you track your actual weight loss.
I made a promise to myself that I would be fit, flexible, and feel good about the way I looked naked (unlike Hitchcock's Psycho I scream when I get out of the shower because my bathroom has more mirrors than a funhouse.) before I'm 35. No diets, no gimmicks, no weird supplements - just good old fashioned common sense has helped me lose 10 kg. Knowing when I'm not really hungry and every now and then saying yes to a few scoops of the chocolate ice cream instead of the entire pint. Then I make sure I run at least three times a week.
Losing weight is hard to do and if you're trying to get into a pair of old jeans or just be healthier, you have my sympathies. Check out this website as well. Ever since I saw this picture, I've been unable to bring myself to eat a single Oreo cookie or a Snickers - both things that I love to snack on when I get junk food cravings.
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| Click to enlarge. |
About two months ago I forced myself to come to acknowledge that it wasn't that my bathroom scale had become sentient and it's favourite activity was to ruin my day. Sure I knew it all along, but to admit it was an entirely different thing.
So I started to move more. I am a strange bird. I love sports. There is no reason why I don't work out more often except that I'm lazy or I'd rather do other things with my time. You constantly read things online about how one must make time to to work out and in the past few months I have. A little.
It's a thin line between trying to lose a few pounds and becoming obsessed for me. I weigh myself every morning. Most doctors say that's a really bad idea and I agree. When the scale doesn't show me I've magically lost 2 kg despite having eaten sensibly and gone for a run I feel utterly defeated. On the other hand when I've sat on my ass all day and had a massive meal and still lost a few hundred grams it feels like a triumph. What's a girl to do?
The truth is I don't follow any diet. I know what's bad for me. I know when my portion sizes are excessive. I know when that second helping of whatever I've cooked that day isn't necessary because I'm not actually hungry any more. I know that refined sugar does nothing good for my body. I don't need some celebrity diet or self help book to tell me those things because no one knows my body better than I do.
For the past two months I've been listening to myself and trying to make better decisions. Yesterday I went for that long walk and so I didn't begrudge myself a big hunk of baguette with grilled sausages. I came home and had a lovely salad for dinner and when I went to the little fair down the hill I had a cola flavoured slushie. I love slushies. I don't own a slushie machine. It was a little treat.
But then I came home and my stomach was rumbling. I had a glass of water and waited. My stomach rumbled again. I declined an off of chocolate ice cream and decided to snack on a bit of cucumber instead with a bit of hot sauce (that might sound gross but it's a Korean thing). My stomach stopped rumbling and I went to bed.
When I lose weight I know without stepping on the scale too. I know because in the morning my body feels "happy". I don't know how else to explain it. I move differently and my body seems more pleased to drag me out of bed. I couldn't wait to step on the scale and see what walking 7km+ burned off. Apparently not as much as I thought.
But I looked thinner. I could see it in the mirror. I stepped back on the scale. Hmmm.
So I dug out a dress that used to fit me before I put on the latest batch of kilos. No way it was going to even get on me I thought. I put it on and while it was still pretty tight and I wouldn't dare wear it in public, it did sort of fit. The last time I deluded myself into thinking it might fit it got stuck and I was pretty sure I was going to have to ask someone to cut me out of it. This time I had to shimmy a little, but it came off pretty easily.
The moral of this story is that the scale isn't an all-knowing demigod. It can't even differentiate between fat and muscle and while muscle doesn't "weigh more" than fat, it takes up a lot less space. I measured myself at one point to see how much less space my fat was taking up, but it's a much slower way to track your progress and can be even more demoralising than stepping on the scale. If you're like me and your weight gain has been gradual, keep some clothes on hand to help you track your actual weight loss.
I made a promise to myself that I would be fit, flexible, and feel good about the way I looked naked (unlike Hitchcock's Psycho I scream when I get out of the shower because my bathroom has more mirrors than a funhouse.) before I'm 35. No diets, no gimmicks, no weird supplements - just good old fashioned common sense has helped me lose 10 kg. Knowing when I'm not really hungry and every now and then saying yes to a few scoops of the chocolate ice cream instead of the entire pint. Then I make sure I run at least three times a week.
Losing weight is hard to do and if you're trying to get into a pair of old jeans or just be healthier, you have my sympathies. Check out this website as well. Ever since I saw this picture, I've been unable to bring myself to eat a single Oreo cookie or a Snickers - both things that I love to snack on when I get junk food cravings.
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