Fridays are my weigh-in days. The lovely weigh-in.
Every Friday, I wake up from a nice slumber and then quickly remember that I'm about to step on a scale to see a number. A number that either makes me happy with my progress or one that can quickly make me forget about exercising and eating right.
Last week, I stepped on the scale for the first time in two weeks. I only weigh on Fridays and the past two had been such busy days for me that I forgot to weigh-in. Well, I thought for sure that I had gained all my weight back! Okay, maybe not all, but I thought it was going to be close to it. See, I haven't worked out in quite a few weeks. I've only kept my diet in good terms (with a few cheat days). So, last week, I stepped on the scale and much to my surprise, I was down 3 pounds from the last time I weighed in!
It was just the encouragement that I needed. I didn't see the dreaded "7".
Dreaded 7. It used to be the dreaded 8.
Yes, I pretty much just admitted to all of the interwebs my weight.
The heaviest I remember being was somewhere in the 180s and that is when I decided to start my weight loss journey. I started toward the end of my senior year of college, but it really didn't kick start until I moved to California. While I was living in Cali, I was the most active I have ever been! Every day I was outside, running after kids, running/walking by the river, hiking every chance I got, kayaking. Not too mention my diet! Whew! I got spoiled on good foods and everything healthy at my fingertips. By the end of my ten months on the West Coast, I was down into the 160s!! THE 160s!!! No lie. That was the lowest I ever remember being in QUITE awhile. I was determined to keep that number on that scale for quite awhile until it changed to the 150s in the future.
Then, I moved back home. Back to the South with foods that are always fried and desserts full of butter. Plus, there aren't many opportunities to hike and kayak where I live in lower Alabama. I've had to work extra hard to keep looking at that "6" on Friday mornings.
Yet, this morning, when I stepped on the scale, I saw...the dreaded "7." I wasn't happy about it, but I know I'm still close to the "6." So close, friends. My goal is to get back to the weight that I was when I moved back home from Cali. And then, I'll go from there.
But guys, the dreaded 7 used to be my dreaded 8.
And that is a number that I will NEVER see again.
I am determined.
And once I see that 6 again, I am determined to never see the dreaded 7 again.
I just need some motivation.
Are you on your own weight-loss journey?
What do you use as motivation to keep going?
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