Helplessly Hoping

It’s funny about losing weight. Or at least trying to lose weight. The scale can be your best friend, but more than likely it’s your worst enemy. How many times have you felt “great” about yourself, only to step on the scale and it deflates you like a Macy’s balloon the day after Thanksgiving? If you’re like me, a lot.

I try to avoid the scale, but I’m an addict. Everything I do is addictive. When it was alcohol, it was to excess. When marijuana, also to excess. Eating? Excess. Weighing myself is addicting. Yet I hate it.

I said I’d weigh myself once a month. That didn’t last long. Even Chris the trainer said to get off the scale. But I keep going back. How pathetic.

I keep helplessly hoping I lose weight even though the eating thing is not under control. I exercise very regularly, which is really my therapy, however, this eating thing is so trying for me. My mother was a Mistretta, and Mistrettas’ are notorious sweet eaters. My motto? I’d rather eat cake than steak.

So, stepping on the scale “hoping” to lose weight without doing all I can to make it happen. Too many birthday parties, church dinners, etc.  But enough with excuses. I have to do this. This isn’t for how I look (although I must modestly say I’m starting to look pretty fantastic) but for my health.

Bonnie’s cousin Mitch has lost a HUGE amount of weight. He looks great. I ask him what he weighs and he said he doesn’t know. I ask him what he used to weigh and he said he doesn’t know. He doesn’t own a scale.

So I’ll “try” not to weigh myself. But it’s not easy when you need that “number” to encourage you. As my friend Emily (who has a great Facebook page you need to follow called “Establishing a New Emily) says, “Don’t let numbers define you”.

Ok, I will push on. I know I got this. I’ve been on this step of weight almost as long as Oprah is on a glazed ham. But, I’m a realist and have to do what I have to do. God is good. Whether I’m fat or skinny, God is good. And He is my ever present help.

Weight: 262.8


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