Weighty Matters

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Pre-Stressing the Scale

This Friday is my next appointment with my surgeon. I almost called this blog post Day of Reckoning, then I thought it should be Getting Called on the Carpet. Both of those seemed negative. I don’t know why I get stressed over these appointments. Scratch that, yes I do. In my twisted lil psyche, regardless of the fact that I’m a grown woman of 56, I sometimes feel like I did when I was a little kid and had to speak to an authority figure. I also have a long, long, long history of doctors’ appointments when getting on the scale to get weighed was anything but a joyful experience.

Most of the time they were more like harbingers of shame. Get on the scale; get scolded for my weight. Get told to lose weight. Get scolded some more. It just sucked. The only times I didn’t suffer heavy duty stress and emotional trauma prior to a doctor’s appointment and weight check were those when I was in the middle of a semi-successful weight loss. Then I could celebrate how well I was doing, until such time as I was no longer doing well.

For the year, year and a half after my bariatric surgery, I loved going each month, then every three months, to the surgeon’s for my check up. Who wouldn’t when weight melted off of me like ice cream off a cone on a hot summer day? When my rate slowed to more like one, one and a half pounds a week, it didn’t matter how much I told you that this was to be expected, I still felt like I was wrong. The old shame began to well up again. That’s how locked in my emotional well-being can be to my scale successes.

Last December’s appointment was the worst of this whole journey because I’d lost the least amount of weight in the three month period and I reacted poorly to the doctor’s suggestion that I cut my calorie intake by 25%.

I’m concerned about my emotions this week as I countdown to the check in on Friday. I’ve been doing really well. My head and emotions are in a great place without lots of conflicts or issues about my food plan. I’ve lost weight and stepped up my exercise. I’m in a good place, damn it, and yet I feel myself beginning to fret about what I’ll weigh when I step on my doctor’s scale on Friday afternoon.

Tonight, I’m so glad that I was inspired to write about this topic. Facing the issue, and my unreasonable fears, will help me stay strong and on track. The last thing I want to do is go into a tail spin and start eating over the scale stress. This is not the time to attempt to use carbohydrates to smother the stress. That would jeopardize the good progress I’ve made. I need to stick to the food and fitness plan, taking each day as it comes, one day at a time. As long as I don’t go off the rails, I will feel emotionally and mentally strong and in recovery which will bolster the physical effort.

I’m psyching myself up for another good week. Each morning when I wake up and then throughout my days, I will choose serenity over stress. When I walk into the doctor’s office on Friday it will be with a light step and a happy smile. The number on the scale is not the only indication of how well I’m doing, how far I’ve come, and how committed I am to continuing with my progress and my recovery.

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