There is one appliance in my home that rules over my emotional stability and mental well-being like no other... my bathroom scale. We'll call him B.S. for short. This demon with numbers posesses me, leaving me powerless under it's mind-control tactics. If it's digital eyes reveal a number that shows I've lost weight, I'm elated. However, if the number shows no loss, or even worse, weight gain, self-defeating feelings of failure and despair set in. It's hard to believe that something as basic as a number could have such dominion over my well-being.
"Just don't weigh yourself", some might suggest. The problem with that approach for me is that I need the accountabillity of the scale, even though the results are sometimes misleading. When I don't weigh myself, I tend to lose sight of the fact that I am still on this weight loss journey. Once I reach my destination, I'll still need to weigh in on a regular basis to make sure I haven't started to head back in the wrong direction. So, weighing in, at least weekly, is a must for me.
I'm not sure what to do about this B.S. dilemma. But, if you are ever driving down Main Street in Kernersville and see a scale in the middle of the road smashed to smithereens...you'll know what happened.