After my total bonehead move of getting on the scale mid week and seeing a half-pound gain, I really didn't know what to expect yesterday at my official weigh-in. All I knew was that I had done everything in my power the 'right' way. And as further proof that weighing mid-week is, in fact, a bonehead move and should NOT be done, the weigh in was good. Just shy of two pounds down.
Wait. That means....just a hair over one pound and I hit the century-and-a-half mark.
It also meant, by the way, that for the first time in years (twenty or so!) my weight starts with a ONE! Did I actually get down and kiss the scale? You betcha! I have witnesses! And what, like that wasn't a completely normal reaction?
So after the thrill of that milestone wore off, if you know me well enough you can predict exactly what I started to do. Plot exactly how to make sure I lost that 1.2lbs this week. Double workouts? Extra spin classes? Eat nothing but green vegetables?
I can't force this. I can try, but there is no point. (Other than my raging case of impatience.) All I can do, all I NEED to do, is exactly what I've been doing. Let's not get crazy, kiddo. Doing things the rational and right way works. It may not work to the tune of 1.2lbs this week, but it works at the pace it needs to. And every time I try to force things, I overtrain, end up not eating enough to compensate for it, and I usually lose a grand total of NOTHING those weeks. So as much as I want to go balls to the wall, I am resisting the urge to do that.
And for God's sake, somebody hide that damn scale!