It Can't Be Right

I stood on the scale tonight.  Not once or twice.  Eight times.  It was not conceivable that the scale was correct.  Impossible.  Not a single cell in my brain (even right now) believes that the scale is correct.  I left it sitting on the bathroom floor, yelled for my husband to "get up here", and made him step on to see if he thought the scale was inaccurate.  Nope.

How could this be??? 

According to the "inaccurate" scale, I have lost weight.  It has to be wrong.  I can not believe otherwise.  I have abused my body over the last several weeks.  I mean that - abused.  And I expected a punishment for the abuse.  The punishment of a weight gain.

Especially based on the last seven days.  I find myself standing in the pantry eating chocolate truffles, caramel corn, almond roca, brownies...and within seconds of swallowing the last bit, thinking 'I need another'.  In the same way I imagine an alcoholic craving the next drink.  Just one more.  Not in the same way that you might crave lemonade in the summer.  Rather, an urge.  Like a mosquito bite you have to scratch or the sensation to sneeze.

Up until tonight, I've been avoiding the scale.  I assumed I'd gained ten pounds, and didn't want to face that reality.  So, the results on the scale are shocking. 

I often tell my clients who have sudden weight gain over a weekend or a vacation "Don't worry.  Those pounds don't belong to you.  They didn't belong to you a week ago, so tell yourself they don't belong to you now."  The theory being if you don't allow your mind to hold on to the weight, neither will your body.  Apparently this works on an unconscious level as well.  Somewhere in my unconscious I have convinced myself that my weight is what it is.  I may make bad choices here and there, but over time, I balance my choices.

I don't have to trust that the scale is right.  I only need to trust that I am ok with me.  I trust that I know how to make good choices.