My friends, I'm writing this blog to document and warn against a certain dangerous state of mind...It's too late for me. Save yourselves!!!!:
There's a place where my mind goes, sometimes.....a place where my narcissistic-ometer is pegged out! I find that the pendulum has swung past the "normal" to an extreme point where I am literally obsessed with the numbers on the scale. Is it low enough? Why haven't I lost more? Why did it go up an ounce? (Or, God forbid, a pound)
My mind doesn't go there alone...it takes my mouth with it. And...my mouth drags my darling bald man along for the ride. I've tried to put myself into his combat boots with absolutely no success. I cannot imagine hearing this weight loss yammering for over 15 years.
This morning was one of those mornings. I worried aloud to the point that I irritated myself!!!! Ugh! On and on and on....my angry rant HOW can the scale read that when I've been Sooooooo careful, doing everything right. Coloring completely inside the lines?!?!?!
This patient man begins going through the "you can't gain pounds overnight unless it's water-weight, did you eat a lot of salt today?" And "honey, you're about to start your period, it's not permanent" and "keep going, have faith, weight fluctuates, stay off the scale and press forward, weigh once a week, etc...." Man, he's been conditioned well!!!!!
But, I did NOT want to hear it!!! I wanted to kick and scream and pout and cry and stage a bathroom sit-in until the darn scale admitted that it was wrong and unjustly accused me of gaining POUNDS overnight. LIAR!!!!!! TRAITOR!!! TURNCOAT!!! You were my friend LAST NIGHT!!!!!
Instead, I walked behind my glorious bald man and incessantly yammered.
I turned in to the WLS psychopath....the lady that just knows that because of this scale reading, she's destined to wake up tomorrow at 400 lbs again. The lady that throws up her hands and says things like (brace yourself for a hissy fit) "it's no use," "I guess I'll just always be fat," "I KNEW I was going to fail at this!"
In short, I lost my mind.....momentarily. The horrid things spewing from my mouth snapped me back from the edge. Did I honestly just say "I knew I was going to fail!!"?? Oh, that's hilarious. That doesn't even sound like me....how irritating! What is going on? Have I developed some sort of WLS adolescent alternate personality that is three seconds from storming out of the door, slamming it behind me, then throwing myself on my bed face down until someone comes to calm me?? How utterly irritating!!
When the tidal wave of yammering stopped, my glorious bad man turned his head and made eye contact.
Me: "what was THAT?"
Him: "welcome back"
So, I will not be back on the scale until Wednesday-weigh-in day. And, I may begin a "frustration" journal that can be the sole recipient of my narcissistic rages against the vile liar that is the seemingly innocent bathroom scale...
you, sir, are no friend of mine!!! (Until Wednesday...when you've had plenty of time to consider your behavior and come to the conclusion that I, in fact, lost some ounces) For the next few days, you can just sit in shame and think about what you've done!!! (I told you it was too late for me)