I never realized that I needed willpower to manage the scale before. I had always just avoided it because it never seemed to tell me what I wanted to hear. But during this diet journey I’ve been on these past few months it’s become more neutral; an impartial reporter of data. It’s been helpful to me in that respect but at the same time I’m hard pressed to find an explanation as to why some weeks I lose 1/2 of a pound and some weeks I lose 3.5 pounds. My food journal is shockingly consistent.

So this week when my weigh-in produced a one pound gain I tried to be positive and stay focused. Unfortunately, 48 hours later I became convinced that if I weighed myself again I would see that the one pound gain was just a fluke and it would give me a boost.

Yesterday morning I got up, peed, and then got on the scale. Wouldn’t you know it I had “gained” another 1/2 pound.

My husband told me I was a goose and that it didn’t mean anything, that I still have my period, and I needed to just banish the number from my head.

It’s difficult to do that.

It’s difficult to stay worry free as I contemplate my fear that I’m at the end of the line.

Where I am is great. I weigh less than I did when I was 18. But, it’s not good enough. I have my goal. It’s a reasonable one. It’s one I believe it possible.

I guess that’s really the issue for me right now. I had started to believe, perhaps for the first time in my life, that getting to my goal would be possible. That belief, that hope was actually the best part.

I don’t want to lose hope.

I certainly don’t want to lose hope because I’m being neurotic!

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