It shouldn't matter.
I have been trying for 3 years to tell myself that the stupid number on the stupid scale doesn't matter.
But it fucking does.
It does! It does because I have worked so fucking hard. I have. For the past 3 years I have done everything Mike has told me to do. I don't always get it right. Sometimes I have to work at it before I accomplish it. Get a heart rate monitor. Done. Track your food. Done. Eat this amount of calories. Done. Ok, now eat healthier calories. Ditch the ice cream and donuts. DONE. Train like this. DONE. I will do whatever he tells me to do. Because I want this. I really really want this. I really want to be a spin instructor. I really want to LOOK like a spin instructor. I really want to hit all my goals. I have earned it.
This has been an emotionally challenging 2 weeks. This weight loss challenge has brought up some old demons. The negative thoughts have been running rampant. And I have been fighting them off. Reminding myself about all of the progress I have made. I am stronger. I am more fit. I am less afraid. I have been more kind to myself. But damn it. I wanted that number to go down. I earned it. I really did. I earned it and I didn't get it.
I feel like I am just spinning my wheels. And I kind of want to quit. I know I won't. I promised myself I would never lose myself again. I would never let myself get that unhealthy again. But dammit if I am not struggling tonight.
So I have Chinese Food. And Friday Night Lights. And I'm eating it out of the carton. Because apparently it doesn't matter anyway.