I love my body, and I accept it for what it is. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have fitness goals or frustrations when it comes to weight loss. Here’s a raw story from this morning.
Scroll to the bottom of this post to watch a Facebook Live where I explain this morning in colorful detail, and offer tips on how to stay positive and motivated, even when the scale isn’t validating your hard work.
“FUCK THIS THING!”
I could feel the heat in my cheeks, and my under eyes swelled with the quiet tears I knew were coming.
It was 6am on Friday morning, and I was naked in my bathroom. My weekly weigh-in.
All summer, I’d done my best to run, bike or swim 4 to 5 days a week. I ate (mostly) well during the week.
And for the last 3 weeks, I had upped my game, and financial commitment, by working with a personal trainer twice a week. I’d started going to yoga 3 times a week, including hot yoga at least once. I’d also been running.
I’d totally changed my eating habits too, and was loving how I was feeling. Veggies, fruits and protein. Minimal dairy and processed foods. It wasn’t a drudge. It felt great. Sure, I’d had some alcohol and a few splurges on the weekends but I’d still given up so much else.
And now, my third weekly weigh-in.
And I’d lost .2 pounds.
Not 2 pounds. POINT 2 effing pounds.
Seriously what the F.
I was furious.
All those hours of working out.
Of leaving my baby when she had her tummy bug and wanted me.
Of skipping coffee with friends or time with my kids to work on my self and be healthy for me.
Of going to a friend’s 40th birthday party AT A PUB AND DRINKING WATER.
Of going to an event with an open bar and my favorite beer AND DRINKING WATER.
Of celebrating my son’s birthday the very night before, and buying Subway sandwiches and ice cream sandwiches for the family and eating with them as I HAD CABBAGE AND BEEF AND WATER.
Now, I’m truly not obsessed with weight. If you’ve been here any length of time you know I love my body for what it’s done and I think it’s amazing just the way it is. But part of that is wanting the best for it. And yes, I absolutely want to be healthier and more fit and put better things into my body. Not because I hate my body but because I love it.
On top of that, I have been working my ass off. And yes, I want to see results. Isn’t that normal?
And today, the results are not freaking there.
“Fuck this scale,” I said as I put my workout clothes on. My mind started fantasizing about throwing it off our third-floor balcony, or better yet, using a sledgehammer to break it into a million tiny pieces.
Just last night I had looked in the mirror after my shower and thought how I was actually looking a little slimmer. I thought for sure I’d have lost 2 to 3 pounds.
Screw this scale for not validating my hard work.
Furious, I told my husband first. He tried to make me feel better but ended up telling me how he’s lost 5 pounds without even trying. I love him and had to smile. I’m proud of him too.
Then I drove to my personal training appointment, eager to dump on my trainer how pissed I was that I’m doing everything and nothing is happening.
I thought for sure she’d suggest I do more, maybe cut out alcohol altogether and add in more cardio.
“You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be,” she said with a smile.
She explained measurements and inches and gaining muscle happens first and losing weight comes later. I’m also still building back from herniated disks in my back, which happened about a year ago after my fourth child was born, so there’s that too.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ I thought.
But I am sick of being this number on the scale.
The same damn number for like 6 months, despite hundreds of miles of biking, running, swimming.
Why won’t it move?
Keep at it, she said.
Don’t give up.
I’m not sharing this story to make you feel bad for me or to get your compliments. I’m not sharing this story for your advice or weight loss products (Lord please no, do not send them).
I’m sharing this story, like all my writings, to remind you that if you’ve ever felt this way, you’re not alone.
And even those of us who love our bodies and preach about self-love still have frustrating days when our amazing bodies just aren’t doing what we think they should.