I got on the scale this morning.
Technically, I'm not supposed to do this. I tend to get a little bit...addicted to the scale. Manic would be a good way to describe it. I might have, maybe, once or twice, shrieked things like "POINT TWO! THAT'S NOT WEIGHT! THAT'S TAKING A PEE!" But that can't be confirmed because I only get on the scale alone.
But anyway. The scale.
Today? Its little black number blinking back at me is lower than it's been since...well, since I can remember.
So low, in fact, that I stepped on the scale three times. To make sure I wasn't crazy.
I'm not thin. But I'm thinner than I used to be.
This should not surprise me. I exercise daily. I walk forty miles a week. Sometimes more. My eating is cleaner than it's ever been. I don't even care that I make bread and don't eat it. I made mac and cheese for my kids twice recently and didn't even eat one noodle. I didn't even want it.
I always want to say I haven't changed. I want to believe that I'm the same person that I've always been. But it's not true anymore. And not just my body is changing. Not just my face.
I'm becoming a different person. Hopefully, a better person. In some ways anyway.
It's really, really scary to become someone else. To start saying that certain things aren't okay anymore.
You know how you watch the Biggest Loser and those people cry and cry and cry? I always wondered why they were crying and maybe even speculated it's because they were attention whores. But that's just not the case.
It's hard to change. It's hard to be different. It's hard, for me, to even want more. Much less expect it.