I’m exhausted. It’s been an exhausting few days. I’m not complaining, nothing bad has happened. I’m just still recovering from being sick. It took a lot out of me and getting back into the swing of things took a while.

Plus my kids are going through a phase of getting me up at night. I’m not thrilled.

So this will be short and sweet so I can get to bed.

I’m scared of my weigh-in tomorrow.

I’m scared because I feel good, stuck with the plan all week without any difficulty, and feel like I might have lost some weight this week.

But, intellectually, that seems hard to accept because:

A. Since May on this diet whenever I’ve thought I’d lost weight I hadn’t and whenever I’ve thought I haven’t lost weight I had.

B. Last week had to have been a fluke resulting from my near week of not eating as a result of being sick with a high fever. My brain is telling me there has to be a rebound there.

Last week I told myself, after weighing-in and seeing a 3.5 pound drop, that I’d be happy as a clam with a steady no loss no gain this week.

I absolutely agree with that now that the moment is staring me in the face.

But I don’t like the sensation of being afraid of the scale. I used to have a reason to be afraid of the scale: every time I got on it the reading was higher.

For the past few months I’ve really felt as though the scale has been my ally in this journey. At least until I hit that plateau.

I suppose I have to remind myself that no matter what the scale says tomorrow morning I’m not really going to change anything. I like the food plan and it’s not hard to stick to at all. I feel good physically and emotionally on it so I’m sticking with it no matter what. I have my date planned to move to consolidation for Wednesday November 14th and that’s that.

Additionally, my clothes feel great. I’m wearing all my old clothes and feeling comfortable in them.

So, no matter what the scale says I will continue to put one foot in front of the other.

It’s a relief to remember that.

Now, sleep.