The Devil Invented Low-Fat Ice Cream
Last week I did everything I could to avoid the scale. Usually Saturday morning is my weigh-in day. You know how you can tell, without even getting on the scale, that the news is not going to be good? Saturday, Sunday, Monday, were all days like that.
Journaling on this blog about my weight loss journey is what finally forced me to face the firing squad. I was lying in bed early Monday morning thinking of getting up and weighing myself before coffee.
Devil: Don't do it. You know the news is bad.
Angel: You preach accountability. Be accountable.
Devil: What the Hell does that mean? You don't owe anything to anyone! Don't do it.
Angel: If you advise people to be honest with themselves, don't you have to face facts, too?
Devil: You're missing the point! Lying to yourself is a good thing! That way you avoid unnecessary pain.
Once again the Devil went too far. All the Angel had to do was fold her arms in front of her, cock out one hip and tap her foot.
Yup, I gained two pounds. Something has to be done, I thought. But first I had to resist the urge to beat myself up about it. That took all morning. The Devil wanted me feel disgusted, to give up and embrace my fate to morph into a 55 year old version of the Pillsbury dough boy.
To be continued....
Photo courtesy of Christi Nielsen via Flickr