I had scale anxiety this week, lots of it. Let's see...I've had my insides messed with, I sat on the couch most of the week, I could barely walk until Thursday, I can't work out, and oh, I've been taking boatloads of vicodin and Ibuprofen which is known to cause water retention. With all that I knew what was going to happen.
By last night I really had resolved that whatever the scale says, I did the best I could last week. I could have changed a couple of things, but I can say that every week. I wasn't going to let it freak me out.
Sure enough, I gained a pound. Yes, I am disappointed. No, I am not freaked out. My Weight Watchers leader has said to me before, not in so many words, that with all my success, a gain once in a while shouldn't throw me off my game. I love my leader but with all due respect, it IS a big deal to me. EVERY weigh in matters to me. I have no throw aways. There are no mulligans. You get a new week to start fresh with, but there are no do-overs here. I want this and I want it bad. BAD. If I work hard I want to be rewarded. I don't think that's an unrealistic expectation. I don't mind showing a gain if I blew it. I mind them when I did everything right.
So at the end of the day, I'm hopeful this is just water and the residuals of surgery. I know I didn't eat 3500 extra calories last week.