It’s Like Crack…

…stepping on the scale! So I broke my weight loss plateau, I’m feeling sexier than ever, and it’s Scorpio season! I’m below my September progress report weight, but I will not be posting another progress report until later this month. I’m one who gets very stuck on what the scale reads. I’m one who dreads hospital weigh-ins because they make you step on the scale with ALL of your clothes on, and with EVERYTHING in your pockets. So what is it that makes me – and plenty others in the world – step on the scale knowing that a person’s weight shifts up and down throughout the week?

The morning I weighed myself, out of pure curiosity, I was feeling light, and my stomach looked like it had shrunk a bit. “Let me get on this damned scale” I thought as I read the refreshed numbers under my feet.  Success! The plateau was broken. It’s been just under a week since that morning, and every morning since then, I’ve been tempted to get on the scale. This is why I’ve learned to avoid scales and monitor my weight based on how my clothes fit and feel. There’s no reason I need to be weighing myself every single day. I mean I could, but I’d only be pissed, discouraged, or overly motivated to lose weight.

For me, I know how I react to any weight gain, and it’s not terrible, but I definitely have my downer moment if the numbers don’t read how I hoped they would. Lifting weights regularly will make your weight go up and down, and I hit the weights pretty hard during the week. I remind myself of these things constantly, but still, there’s an itch that almost leads me to the scale most mornings. Does this happen to any of you? If you know you’re following your preferred diet well, getting in some exercise, and feeling generally positive about your body and progress, then why do we long for daily validation from these devices that haunt our bathroom floors?

Talk to me in the comment section, and shout out to all my Scorpios!

One Night Dance

I embrace the dark, pulsing, cloud of people that is the dance floor at the bar. Dancing is something I have to be in the mood for, and tonight I would turn up the heat.  Scorpio season’s influence is heavy in the air as I begin to wind up – serving up my best Beyonce – and feel the rhythm of the sounds around me.  It’s not long before my friends and I are in the zone, and wondering eyes find their attention on our group.  I turn around and make instant eye contact with the buzzed and beefy stranger who would become my dance partner for the better part of the following hour. Not moving an inch out of my personal circumference, I watch him approach; his interest growing with every step he takes. I don’t miss a beat as he enters my bubble. “Hi” he speaks over the music, and syncs his movements to mine. “Good evening” I respond as I let his palm meet my chest. Together we move like one of the ocean’s traveling waves, and communicate only with our eyes.  His buzzed head, thick frame, and fitted jeans move in ways I appreciate greatly. The only thing that would send this moment completely over the top would be if S were standing in the corner watching. “You’re good at this” he breathes into my ear, before turning around to offer his backside, and run his hands up and down my thigh. “Well, I did get you to come over here… and thanks.” I allow him to enjoy me for a little while longer before I find his eyes again. “It’s past my bedtime, sir. Thanks for an amazing dance.” “Would you like company?” he offers with eyes both timid and curious. “Not tonight, but thanks.” Using one hand, I pull his belt buckle loose, flash a smile, and exit the bar.