Weighing it up
Well, hello there ladies and gents. Long time no see! I have to say you are all looking mighty, mighty fine this morning 
.
So where shall I begin?
Probably with a mighty long post in my usual tradition.
Perhaps I shall start by admitting I myself am not looking mighty fine at the minute.
I was getting along OK on my 28 day plan. The first week went, not perfectly, but rather well - I was definitely proud.
Week 2 faltered at the weekend, when something happened I have chosen to call a 'setback'.
MY SCALES BROKE! AAAAARRRRGGGGGHHHH!
On Saturday morning I stepped onto them as usual, but instead of my lovely, magic number popping up, I heard a mighty crunching sound (how many times am I going to fit the word mighty into this blog, exactly? I must have it on the brain).
Anyway, since that moment, the scales have stubbornly refused to log any weight other than 8 stone 10 (122lb) or 6 stone 9 (93lb).
After the first minute of jumping up and down yelling at my OH 'I have done it! I have made it to goal! And beyoooooond!' (he was still sleeping, incidentally), I was completely gutted.
Those scales have been my close companion for the past eight years. They have been my trusted tool almost every single day during that weight-obsessed time, never protesting when the 8 stone 19-year-old eventually almost doubled the weight she burdened them with, then uncomplainingly helping her stay on track as she started to lose the lard. That small ritual - climbing on, holding my breath as I watch the numbers tremble and then finally settle - has been instrumental in setting my morning mood...every 24 hours, for the past 2920 days.
And now they are gone. My babies. And to add insult to injury, I had just spent £3 on a new battery.
You would think they could have made it to 3000 days. That would probably have got me to goal.
My husband, usually a god of DIY, was unable to work out what was wrong. His tentative diagnosis? 'Perhaps you were using them too much.'
I was really upset. I don't want to buy new scales at the moment - every penny of our income is otherwise accounted for. And more than that, the new scales wouldn't be the same. They would be bound to read a few pounds differently from my old scales, my better scales. So with all this work, a whole year's worth of work, I WILL NEVER KNOW IF I REALLY GOT TO GOAL *cue major histrionics*.
However, always one to look on the bright side (yeah, right 
), I managed to find a silver lining to this cloud, one which actually buoyed me through the first few days of loss.
I can set my own weight.
Yes, every morning, I can now consider my mood, and decide what I weigh for the day.
8 stone 2, it was on Monday (that's 114lb). A bit too skinny, really. I had to fatten myself up with some chocolate...
Yesterday, my mental calibrator told me I weighed a mighty (!) 3000 pounds. Yes, I had broken the Guinness World Record (TM) for the largest person ever. I was delighted. I decided to ring the papers.
Well no, I didn't. I decided to eat an entire Domino's large pizza...because Heaven forbid that someone take my record away from me before I have made some cash out of it.
So you see my problem? Whatever I guess I weigh, it becomes a convenient excuse to munch something.
The real reason? I don't have to face up to that pizza converted into tomorrow's scale reading.
Ok, ok...I had better finish this blog with something vaguely positive.
I suppose one good thing to come out of this is that I have realised those scales aren't really all that important to me any more (sorry, babies).
If this had happened a few years ago, it would genuinely have been a reason for a complete meltdown. I wouldn't have known how to function without knowing exactly where I was on my own particular scale of good, ok and just completely useless and pointless and unworthy as a person - how to cope without the unique interaction between the physical scale and my own mental barometer of self-worth, so vital to my everyday existence.
Over the past year, I have come to believe I have some value other than that which I award myself after seeing the day's number. I have learned not to start each day by deciding how crap I am, or that I am OK for once, but bound to mess it up somehow.
I have learned it won't be the worst thing in the world if my final goal is a couple of pounds either side of where I originally planned. I have learned not to let the scale set my mood for the day.
Now I just have to learn actually to eat on plan without it...
So today, my Mental Weight (mental, indeed 
) shall be 9 stone 9 (135lb). Perhaps if I imagine I am at goal, I will start practising eating the way I need to for the rest of my life.
Alternatively, I could gird my loins (can women even do that?) and aim for the mighty 4000 pound mark. There must be some scales I could use. Or a weighbridge...in fact...there is a weighbridge...it is conveniently located just past Domino's.
See you tomorrow, when I shall be wearing my Fat Pants .
Love R xxx 
