I did something last week that I haven't done in years.
Stepped on a scale. In my very own bathroom.
I don't know what possessed me to buy the scale last week. Maybe it was the 75% off price tag. Maybe it was the decorative glass-- like that would somehow make the numbers in the little window less offensive to my eyes. Either way, I am questioning my sound judgement.
After Noah was born, I wised up and tossed ye old bathroom scale away. Why bother? Does it really matter what I weigh when the only thing I really care about is my health and feeling well?
Hahaha! I AM SO LYING ABOUT THAT.
Let's be honest here. All I really care about is fitting into my jeans, preferably without having to suck in my gut in order to zip and button. Boy oh boy, is that getting to be dang near impossible lately.
Okay, I'm not saying that I'm pleasantly plump or anything. But being a mere dozen pounds away from my full-term-prego weight is not my idea of a good time.
I place the blame solely on my love of wearing skirts. They are comfortable, pretty, and *here's where the true problem lies*... elastic waisted. When I've
eaten baked a few too many cookies and/or loaded my coffee down with lots of cream and sugar, the skirts forgave me. They love me like that.
The jeans? They hold a grudge. They are stubborn. They hate me like that. (And the feeling is mutual!)
So now I have this pretty scale in my bathroom and hoping that it will somehow encourage me to exercise.
Do you have a scale at home? How often do you step on it?
Do you blame the uneven foundation of your house or the phase of the moon on your weight fluctuations like I do?