I know that I shouldn’t even say (type?) this out loud, but I can’t take it anymore.
I think I’m over my plateau.
I saw 228ish yesterday and I was still 229 this morning. Normally I try not to weigh every day, but lately I haven’t been able to help myself. In an odd turn of events, it seems to be helping. I’ve watched the scale with bated breath each morning, crossing my fingers that 22-something will pop up (and stay there!)
I truly think Wednesday will be that day.
With that being said, allow me to share my utter frustration with you on how I got to this point.
For six weeks I have worked harder than I’ve ever worked (so far) on this weight loss journey. I joined the gym down the street from work and started going each day at lunch. I logged every single calorie. I stayed away from all restaurants for four of the six weeks.
I even had fruit for snacks.
Fruit…not, like fruit bars, actual fruit.
Nothing worked. The harder I tried, the higher the number crept.
I could tell a difference in my clothes and my measurements did go down, so I was able to keep my sanity. However, the number on that scale can really mess with a person. I knew that I had to stop getting on it every day and that I couldn’t obsess over it all the time, but I just didn’t know how to stop.
Last week Cliff realized that we would have to put an early end to our no restaurant challenge due to a business trip to Dallas next week. He is not going to have access to a kitchen, so it would next to impossible to make it the whole week without going out to eat. We did make it 20 days (our longest is 34 days) so I wasn’t too upset about it. I’m sure we’ll shoot for 60 days again once he gets back. Since we called it quits, we decided to try Havana Rumba, a Cuban restaurant that is consistently rated in the top 5 places to eat in the city. Neither of us had ever had Cuban food, so we were really excited.
I had a hair appointment that afternoon, so I asked my stylist to add a little pizazz (which, for me, just equates to a few curls). When I got home I decided to test drive the dress that I got for graduation just to make sure it would be comfortable. Once it was all assembled, I have to admit that I was really pleased with what I saw.
At that moment I decided that whatever I was doing was working. I felt great, my body was changing – even if the scale wasn’t, and there was no way I was going to stop doing what I was doing, so it really didn’t matter what the scale said.
So that meant a night of delicious food and drunken debauchery!
Ok, ok. I only had one mojito, but it was STRONG!
For the first time in a long time, I went out to eat, ordered what I wanted, and didn’t sweat the scale. I had an amazing time just enjoying the new experience with my partner in crime and knew I would pick right back up the next morning.
I even got an ice cream cone from McDonald’s on the way home.
It was awesome.
So, just to see how much “damage” I had done, I stepped on the scale Sunday morning.
I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.
There it was…
22-something (228.6 to be exact) staring back at me.
All those weeks of hard work and dedication and it’s Fricase de Pollo, Spinach Empanadas, and fried plantains that finally pushed me through the wall?
Isn’t that shitty?
I decided to jump up and down and scream for joy laugh instead of cry and just hope that it holds out until Wednesday so it can be official.
Obviously, I’m not advocating going out and gorging on delicious food if you hit a plateau. However, I do think it’s important to step back and focus on something other than the number on the scale. I knew that I was doing all the right things (and more importantly, was going to keep doing the right things). I also knew that one night of fun was not going to ruin all my progress. I know that weight loss gurus tell us not to reward ourselves with food…but I hate that rule. I’m more of a fan of the 80/20 rule, except I feel like 95/5 is more my speed (at least until I get the bulk of the weight off).
My ultimate goal is to be healthy and happy and I, personally, can’t do that if I’m living off rice patties and kale 24/7.
The bottom line is that I still made good better decisions at the restaurant and I was able to thoroughly enjoy a new (and amazing!) dining experience with my husband without spending the entire night obsessing about what the scale would say the next day.
I promise not to step on the scale anymore until Wednesday.