The Moment, The Scale, and Me

Da da da dum...

I didn't even dust off the scale this morning. It wasn't that bad.

There it was, facing me. It's LCD eye blank, awaiting the touch of my toe to awaken and...judge me. Foul Beastie. We pay money for these little monsters? We pay for this self-torture?

I can't say that I agonized last night, thinking about hopping on board the bitch. I mean, my jeans were fitting well, some of them even seemed just a wee bit looser. But it was on my mind.

"Oh please," I asked of the Universe, "please let the scale-beast be kind to me tomorrow."

Then the bargaining with self. "Well, if I stayed the same, that's ok. If I'm up more than two pounds...no, I won't think about that. I can't be. My jeans fit! but if I am, ok, don't despair. Work harder..."

And isn't it funny how a few pounds can change our bodies so much? But more than our bodies, those pounds change us. When we're down a few pounds, we walk a little taller. Straighten our shoulders a little more (I've been working on my posture; I find that yoga has begun to condition me to understand how important it is to keep a straight spine), move with confidence. But when a few pounds creep back on...we hold our arms across our tummies, or hunch a little...

But the scale was kind. I am down two pounds from my pre-holidays weight!!

Relief is a deep, deep pool of gratitude.