More than a number
I was doing so well. I made a solid plan and dutifully weighed in, logged meals,, exercised. I headed into thanksgiving feeling strong and resolved.
I guess I could spend time feeling frustrated about the number on my scale creeping back up after the last few weeks successes. I guess I could feel depressed about not staying back on track and sticking to the schedule the way I had it laid out for myself. I could feel bad about sleeping longer over the weekend and I could regret the pie and cookies I noshed on. I could slip down that slope and feel that shame and reluctance stepping back on the scale and feeling like “here I am again back at square one. Again.”
I could.
I won’t.
I’ve learned to love myself, to nurture myself, to celebrate small things, to cheer myself on, and no number will take that hard won victory away no matter what it says.
Instead of beating myself up, I showered and dressed and treated myself to having my nails done a pretty shade of sweet pink.
Pink #139. That’s my number today. I logged my meals, I made good choices, and every though I couldn’t squeeze a walk in after cleaning out the coop (its own little workout), I rewarded myself for being resilient and I cheered myself on.
And that pink? It looks gorgeous against a cookie.
