But what about my needs?
What can I do to convince you to stop torturing yourself with the scales?
Lee, woman, you are so right. It is torture and I should stop. Please do not think I continue to torture myself because you have been unconvincing . . .
Or because I didn't catch your comment at The Donut, LOL!
It's me, it's all me. I know that in real terms it's the NonScale Victories that count. It's the excavation of cheekbones and the way my clothes fit. It's having people stop by my office to find out what I'm doing . . . it's Scott grabbing my ass. (Which, by the way, I have convinced him to stop doing in public. Mostly.)
But those things don't happen every day. I can jump out of bed in the morning and try on my jeans and think, Yeah, all my hard work is paying off! but if I do that every day it's hard to see/feel the difference. If that makes sense.
I know this makes me sound terribly needy -- and I am. I mean, if I wasn't in need of frequent comfort/reward I wouldn't have eaten myself to 212.5 pounds in the first place.
So I turn to the Scalegod and his numbers. Intellectually I know that I can lose or gain a pound and nobody will notice. It won't show in my face, and I won't be able to feel it in my clothes. So in real terms, 1 pound means nothing.
But the Scalegod notices. And yes, it sucks when he notices ounces more. But on those days when he's noticing ounces less it just kickstarts my day.
I know it's dangerous to depend on that kind of outside validation. I hear you, Lee! I'm working toward the day when I will be strong enough to go without it. Or disgusted enough to walk away from it.
And I wish I could say that I'm going to declare this week a break week and not touch the Scalegod except on Wednesdays. Or even -- gasp -- for a month at a time.
But right now, that's just too scary.