You know how it is. You work out. You try to eat right. (I do stress try) You eat the superfoods of the week, get some rest, plank while watching TV and all around make an effort to treat your body like a temple or least not an IHOP. And then you come face to face with some tough criticism.

We all have it in our lives, and we opt to check in for a progress report at the most inopportune times. We’re hoping to find out we’re doing great and one step closer to meeting our goals. Or to find out that our weekend ice cream indiscretion wasn’t as bad as we remembered it. Frankly, we’re looking for validation that we’re OK. But more often than not we’re left feeling a strange mix of vulnerable and hopeful as we wait for the answer. It’s like being barefoot, naked AND afraid while standing on a cold tile floor, because, well we are. It’s sort of a requirement for meeting up with this unforgiving b^$&^#d in my life. It goes by another name you may recognize: the scale!

Now, I know theoretically, realistically and healthfully I should not care what the scale says.. but I do.

And if you’re honest, you do too!

Sometimes, it’s telling me that I am not caring for myself the way I should. But most recently I am not sure what it’s telling me. I have been training hard, eating pretty well and as the cool kids say: killing it!

In February, the sunshiny half of Lowi & G wanted to be about LOVE. But I think it’s safe to say I am feeling sarcastic so today it’s more like love is a battlefield. Oh Pat Benatar, how right you are: “heartache to heartache we stand”  in lamenting our hate/hate relationships with the scale.
I imagine this all comes down to self love and compassion: more battIefields. I hope to win the war but for now I am going to throw that damn scale out with the trash next week.

Peace out,
G