ain't no expletive rank enough
I don't wanna be a broken record here, but my scale (a very "accurate" scale at that) knows nothing of the truth. I was gonna call it a lying sack of shit, but that seemed harsh. And it may not be true. But maybe there's more than one truth. I mean, there's the truth of weight (in that exact moment of stepping upon said scale) and there's the truth of everything else-- fluctuations in body weight, muscle mass, water retention, a week spent well within recommended guidelines and exercising my ass off. Go figure.
The thing that gets me is the way in which I let this whole number thing irk me. Over and over again. Even though I know better.
What's with that?
posted by Stine @ 9:22 AM
3 comments
3 Comments:
i don't know, stine...but it happens to all of us. What I'm beginning to think/feel is that WW creates/perpetuates control FREAKS who think the scale is the end all be all gauge of health. And it's NOT. It just isn't. Another lesson (hard won) in balance...trying to TRUST oneself to know BETTER than the scale. Only YOU can be the arbiter of what is right for YOUR body. Fuck the scale.
M
i feel bad about calling us WW peeps freaks. I'm the only freak 'round here. well, maybe not... :)
oh, I'm definitely a freak. I just don't wanna be a scale freak. I wanna be the flexin' my bicep at wiffy while she rolls her eyes freak. Of the "check out my butt! check out my butt!" freak. I've already got the insect-like cyclist freak thing going-- that's when I really let my freak flag fly...
Post a Comment
<< Home