Just a couple of pounds.
Why is it so important? Aren't I feeling pretty okay?
I want the stupid number to go down. I'm not eating sugar. I'm eating lots of vegetables. Raw vegetables. I'm watching my portions. I'm watching my fat intake. I'm drinking water.
I really have to find my tape measure. I have four of the damn things, why can I not find a single one of them?
The stupid number is important because it's a type of concrete evidence. Yes, all my hard work is working. My willpower is worth something. My discipline is worth something. I want the jiggly, orange-peel skin to GO AWAY. Logic tells me I'm getting stronger and faster, because I did my Week four training yesterday just like I was supposed to and I'm not hurting today. But somehow I can't make that particular concrete fact mean as much as the number on the scale.
The tape measure would show that too. So where the fuck are my fucking tape measures?
And before I weighed myself this morning? I wanted to go on a bike ride. After weighing myself, seeing that the number had gone up? I felt defeated. Like...it's not helping, so why do it? Stay home and be lazy.
Well, I can't stay home anyway. I have to get ready to go get my new license and then drive an hour to pick up the boys for their driving lessons and see The World's End. Because fuck you, scale, I'm having fun today whether you like it or not.
|Property of whoever it's belongs too. I'm too annoyed to look it up.|