Every day, every hour, every minute, somebody somewhere proclaims that they are once and for all going to break some habit they’ve been meaning to break for however long. For as awful as humans can be, I think the majority of us are really trying to better ourselves in small ways where we can, but it’s not always easy. Some people make it look incredibly easy (like your standard online guru who claims their entire life changed by doing this one small thing every day), but when something has been ingrained in you for years, you don’t just suddenly wake up and turn off the switch. If only life worked like that.
Example: I have always slept in. I was that friend in college who would stay up until 3am and sleep until at least 1pm, if not later. I have never been a morning person, despite my best efforts. There was a short period of time from late 2018 into early 2019 when I was actually getting up at 5-530-6am to make it to Orange Theory morning classes, and I’m still confused on how I did that—having an in-person 9-5 job probably helped a lot. But I’ve been working for myself for three years now, and I rarely get up before 9:30. I want to. I really do. But, in this house, we stay up late and even though my husband has to get up and get out the door by 8:30, I don’t. So… I don’t.
I’ll never be an early bird, but I’m trying to take baby steps to at least get up earlier than I typically do and stay off my phone entirely until I get out of bed and into the house. So far, I’ve been successful exactly one time. This is an example of an old habit that is dying a slow, painful death and making it miserable for everyone involved.
But one old habit I was able to kick to the curb pretty easily over the last few weeks has been weighing myself every. fucking. day.
I don’t remember giving a shit about the number on the scale until post-college. I cared about how I looked and had 1,000 insecurities, sure, but I wasn’t getting on a scale daily and defining my worth by three numbers. It was when I was thrown into the real world that things changed. I was no longer a carefree college kid whose biggest worry was getting to the bar early enough to secure the back corner table for the night. There was work and coworkers and real finances and rent and learning to cook for myself and navigating dating in the real world. My body started to change slightly and hold onto weight tenaciously and around 25 years old, I started giving the scale waaaaaay too much credit.
We’ve all heard that your weight is just a number. It doesn’t define you. It’s not a true marker of your health. And, in most cases, this is true. In fact, according to data from Healthline.com,
An adult’s weight can fluctuate up to 6 pounds EVERY DAY depending on how you slept, what you ate, how much liquid you consumed, and even your workout.
6 pounds is a lot. And you KNOW damn well that there’s no possible way you can GAIN 6 pounds of fat or muscle in the course of a day or week. That’s just not a thing. And yet, we’re stepping on the scale every day and killing ourselves over the inevitable fluctuation. On its best day, a scale doesn’t change either way so at least your emotions about your weight can remain neutral. On its worst day, it’s a total mind fuck.
I got into the terrible habit of weighing myself every single morning the past few years and letting that one act start my day. I was willingly choosing to wake up and step onto a piece of cold, hard metal and let it determine in what mood I was going to start the day. When you put it like that, it’s mental. I am currently working the hardest I’ve worked with my personal trainer, Meg, in terms of sticking to diet, getting my exercise in, and making stellar health decisions, but the scale isn’t budging. So I had enough.
I asked my husband to take both of our scales and, when I wasn’t around, please hide them somewhere I’d never be able to find them. And he did.
It’s been two weeks since Zac put the scales in an undisclosed location, and I don’t mean to sound like one of the aforementioned online gurus I blasted up there, but really and truly, it has been a total game changer for me. Meg has always pleaded with me to get off the scale and instead rely on a measuring tape for inches lost, pay attention to the way my clothes fit, and how I feel and after three years of working with her, I finally heeded her advice. Instead of waking up, rolling out of bed, and getting on the scale to determine my worth for the day, I wake up, roll out of bed, and make a cup of coffee (a Melozio Nespresso pod + some MALK + 2 pumps of SF vanilla syrup + 1 scoop of Vital Proteins Collagen Peptides, in case anyone was wondering).
On Monday this week, I was due to send body measurements to Meg (I sent them at the beginning of a new month) and was delighted and surprised to see I’ve lost a half inch in my waist and my hips since January 1, and I PROMISE YOU—if I still had the scale out and about, my inches lost would’ve been lost on me. I would’ve shrugged at them and instead taken my life over whatever the scale said and beaten myself up mentally the rest of the day. And goddamn, if it’s not the most liberating feeling to actually be proud of myself instead of beating myself up for once.
This habit died a stubborn, drawn out death, but it’s finally buried somewhere where it can’t hurt me. RIP scale. You were a stupid bitch, and I won’t miss you.
ICYMI: I’m very into today’s outfit and wrote a quick, dirty, detailed blog post breaking down so you can browse and shop.
Today’s podcast episode is in honor of Valentine’s Day and called “The Most WTF Things Men Have Said To Me.” Catch it on Spotify, Apple, or wherever you listen to podcasts!