The Number Just Doesn't Matter

It has been three weeks since I tried on my ballgown and discovered what I knew all along. My life of inertia had added some poundage to my body frame and the dress was pulling and tugging in places it shouldn't.

I haven't eaten after supper since that revelation. I have since realized how often I reach for food when all I am trying to do is simply stay awake.

I have become more wakeful by adding physical activities into my schedule. Keeping active has added some bounce back into my step. It has encouraged me to work during the day and keep my evenings free for my own pleasure. I  have stayed awake by being active. And ... (drum roll please ...), I have learned to simply go to bed when I am tired.

It's been three weeks. I decided to step on the scale this morning. Drum roll (again) ... ... ... little to no change. Maybe a pound or two - three, at most. My clothes are a little bit more comfortable, but really - there hasn't been a change.

And you know what? I'm okay with that. I'm not making lifestyle changes to lose weight.

I'm making them because I feel gross after I eat a bag of chips late at night (with a sugary sweet chaser to boot).

The physical exercise has released happy endorphins within. I am feeling a little bit bubbly once again.

I work during the day. The evenings are mine, to do as I please. I sleep when I'm tired. I'm awake before my alarm goes off. My life is feeling back in balance once again.

Three months ago, I wrote about the numbers on the bathroom scale and how meaningless they were. This time, I remember the before, after and goal numbers. And do you know what? I really don't care any more.

All I want is to live a balanced life. At the moment ... I am succeeding at that goal. And that is all that really matters.