Notoriously ‘Bathroom Scales’ are the two words that will create a fear in a woman that is normally only experienced when, upon getting to the airport, you realize that you’ve forgotten your eyebrow pencil or that paralyzing panic you get into when you show up to a party and remember half way through that you’ve forgotten to apply deodorant and that it’s already wayyyy too late.
These little boxes of truths have at times, been my absolute best-friends, when we celebrate together that I’ve finally shifted those last pounds or when they let me into the secret that my weekend of takeout food was basically an anomaly and if I keep quiet about it then they will too. But at other times, like this morning they have been the worst, most depressing and stupid inventions of all time that I hate hate hate.
I went skiing last week, a holiday notorious for a ridiculous amount of indulgence, because after all, when you’re in altitude, jaeger doesn’t count as a calorie right? No, and chips are actually really good for you because where else are you going to get the energy to skid and slide your way to the next bar? Not from a salad that’s for sure!
So anyway, one week away, in lala, ‘food doesn’t COUNT when you’re this high up’ land and I got back and onto the scales this morning and damn, that was a mistake.
But the mistake wasn’t indulging, after all, what is life for if not saying yes to pudding if you fancy it? The mistake was getting on those bastard things just as soon as I got back. In my heart I knew I wasn’t going to be getting good news, on my last night there I couldn’t do my skirt up and my friend did the whole of dinner with her jeans undone! It was like taking an exam in June, knowing full well you did not work as hard as you should have done, and then getting your results in August to realize that you failed.
Of course you bloody did, but it’s too late now so please don’t worry! I obviously had a bit of a strop this morning, it takes me so long to lose weight and to put on 3.5kgs in a week is very depressing. But at the same time, I had a fabulous few days, ate incredible food and by the time I got home I was actually looking forward to a vegetable (which is a weirdly nice sensation…) and I wouldn’t change a thing.
I had two boiled eggs for breakfast today and a super-duper healthy lunch, not cause I need it, or because I’m really fat now and need to go on a diet, but because I missed being healthy and damn it I want to show those scales that they are not going to defeat me!
It is no secret, and has actually been proven in a study, that you weigh more after the weekend than at any other point of the week, you probably had more time to eat, money to spend and weren’t so worried about the headache the next morning. But did you have a good time?
Generally speaking yes, the weekend is the best time of the week! So really, celebrating its awesomeness shouldn’t be a problem. And instead of beating yourself up on Monday morning, why not save the scale trip until Wednesday? It’s like checking your bank balance two days before pay-day, literally the worst idea in the world.
People always say that muscle weighs more than fat, and they aren’t wrong. When I lost a whole heap of weight last year after I got diagnosed with all my food intolerances and started to get fit, after about a month I started to put a whole load back on, despite dropping a dress size. I knew (and I know) that this is the best I have ever looked, and it’s not like I got home last night and couldn’t get through the front door, but those scales made me feel like a total hefalump.
So here is my plan. I’m going to go to the gym later, probably not for very long, but enough to give a quick middle finger to the scales. Then I am going to put them in the bathroom for a week or so and leave them to think about what they have done.
If you are challenging yourself, scales can be super useful and a really good motivation technique. But generally speaking they are soul destroying, depressing, miserable, horrible machines. And that is why I really would advise telling yours to p*ss off. If you are happy, and you are healthy, then you’re alright.
I’ve had a cracking week, and probably deserved to put on more than 3kgs but hey ho, I still look alright and what do they know anyway? Nothing and that’s why I’m locking the bathroom door.