It's Tuesday, which means WEIGH-IN DAY! The scale gods have smiled on me yet again...8 pounds lost for week 3. I'm pretty thrilled with that number. I guess my metabolism has woken up after years of being a hibernating bear. I'm trying to limit myself to weighing once a week since I know dealing with day-to-day fluctuations in weight could drive me crazy, but I'm not having much success with that. I tried hiding the scale under the bathroom sink, hoping I would be too lazy to get it out to weigh everyday, but apparently my curiosity outweighs my laziness. It's just that I work so hard to lose weight every day that I want to know right away if it is showing up on the scale. But of course there are going to be days the scale doesn't move or maybe goes up 0.2 pounds (gasp!) and I don't want to be frustrated by that. Hmmm...maybe I'll try twice weekly as a compromise? And yes, I realize the scale does not measure things like how much better I feel and how much more endurance I am getting, but it is nice having a tangible measurement of my progress.
I'm also having trouble with convincing myself that eating fewer calories than I am supposed to is a bad thing. I know restricting your calories more than you are supposed to will eventually lead to your metabolism slowing down. I know that in my head. But I am a stubborn, stubborn girl, and the all or nothing voice in my head* (let's call that voice Gertrude...ugly name, ugly voice) keeps saying, "If 1200 calories is good, then 1000 calories is better!" No, no Gertrude...food is fuel! I need it. Oh, well. I'm trying to shut her up, but she has had a nice home in my head for quite a while, and she is not anxious to leave. Progress, not perfection.
*Please note, Gertrude is a normal voice. She does not represent schizophrenia or multiple personalities. If I start going by the name Gertrude or invent other names, feel free to stage an intervention.