I don’t exactly know how I did it, but I did.
For those of you that actively follow this blog, you may have noticed the long radio silence the past few weeks. I’ve gone almost 17 days without a post on here. While I do regret the lack of writing activity, the silence was the result of a very good thing: I haven’t been stressing my weight.
For nearly three weeks, my weight (and my body as a whole) has been at the very back of my mind. Perhaps it’s due to my busy work schedule, life stressors, or the heavy graduate class I’m balancing, but the scale, my pant size, and the reflection in the mirror have not been important to me recently.
I’m not used to this freedom. I’m not used to walking beside the scale and not feeling inclined to strip and weigh myself. To weigh myself not once, but twice – because the first time might be wrong. Maybe a third time, just to average the three numbers together and get the most accurate weight. In the last three weeks, I think I have weighed myself four times. Each time, it was out of habit and not need and, in two of the four cases, I didn’t actually look at the number on the screen. I just hopped back off.
In the last three weeks, I’ve enjoyed pizza. Candy. Pasta. Foods I’ve normally considered “forbidden territory” have been peppered into my day-to-day. And guess what? They haven’t destroyed me. I’m still strong and healthy. I’m still a good person. Even if my jeans are a little tighter in the waist, my heart is happy and I’ve allowed myself to live.
This is a freedom I could get used to.
While I’m not saying I plan to drop my regimen and let loose entirely, I think allowing myself a little wiggle room has helped me.
I got on the scale this morning and actually looked at the numbers this time: 133.2.
Three weeks of just letting myself live – exercising when I could, eating well for the most part, and enjoying my indulgences without guilt – and my weight was right about where I started.
Maybe there is something to this 80/20 balance thing after all.
Bon appetit, my friends!