I haven't even weighed myself to know exactly what I am dealing with. I can't do it. I want to....I …

I haven't even weighed myself to know exactly what I am dealing with. I can't do it. I want to....I put it in the middle of the bathroom floor and look at....it looks back at me....but thats as far as it goes. I really want this journey to be more about how I feel rather than that damn scale. I know that as I sit here I can feel that extra around my middle that I absolutely detest. I know that the real reason I tell my hubby that I want new jeans is not because there is anything wrong with the ones I have, they are just too tight. I know that I am wearing a bra that is a least a size too small for me right now, even though it fit me well last summer. I know that there would not be a chance of me donning a bathing suit at this moment in time. What I am hoping - is that this time I can "nip it in the bud" so to speak. I have been down this road before. The tight jeans and the bra are just the tell tale symtoms like a cold coming on. You know its coming, you can feel it. This time I don't want to allow those symptoms to throw me into a tailspin that leads me to believe its already too late.

So, to weigh or not to weigh. That is my big question. The time in my life that I drastically lost weight, I weighed myself several times a day. It became an obsession. I had a ridiculous number in my head that I truly believed that once I reached it, angels would sing, the sun would shine and everything about life would be wonderful. Honestly, truly, I believed that. And one day I stepped on the scale at my Father's house and there was that number. It didn't matter to me that every single person in my family told me how awful I looked. I thought I looked fantastic. For a moment in time I thought I had won some wonderful prize. I had done it! And then I thought, almost immediately...now what? There was that magical number....and nothing felt any better.