Six months ago I was dealing with depression over my weight. I came to the conclusion that what would make me happy would be to shed my unwanted pounds and begin leading a long and active life with my family. I formulated a plan and set it into motion.
In the beginning things were easy. Exercising was exciting and counting calories wasn’t all that bad. The mental image of my goal weight kept me motivated. Unfortunately, the mental image faded and things became harder.
To my credit I didn’t give up. I put my head down and trudged through the muscle soreness and the desire to binge. Through the tough times I discovered something that I hadn’t expected. I enjoyed the physical work and the gym was becoming the one place where I could forget about the stresses of everyday life and challenge myself.
Over time the number on the scale fell and my pride swelled. As any dieter knows, the more you lose the more difficult it becomes. I found myself checking the scale more and more often to make sure I was on the right track.
After having lost 35 pounds, the real trouble began. The scale stopped moving and I began to panic. Was I not working hard enough? Was I eating too much? Why am I stuck!
Weekly weigh-ins turned into daily weigh-ins and I was completely obsessed with the scale. I was convinced that if I worked harder, the number would fall. When that didn’t yield results I simply worked even harder. This lead to a couple of setbacks with injuries but I was determined to make this thing work. I was going to lose weight because surely it would make me happy.
After an agonizing six weeks of watching the scale bob up and down, I took a step back. Things had gotten to the point where my daily weigh-in determined if I was going to have a good or bad day. It is amazing how that can be determined while standing naked in your bathroom at 4:15am.
I formulated a new plan. For the entire month of October I would avoid the scale and trust the process. The first week was the hardest, not knowing if I was gaining weight. By mid-month I was far less stressed about my weight and enjoyed being active.
On November 1st I stepped onto the scale not knowing what to expect. What if not keeping track of my weight allowed me to slip and gain 15 pounds? What if I was at an all time new low! When the number flashed across the scale I couldn’t believe what I saw. I was at the high end of the weight range I had been seeing for weeks before taking on this little experiment.
I changed gears a bit and set a new series of goals for November. I would go back to weekly weigh-ins and change up my food intake and workouts. My first weigh-in showed a 1.2 pound loss. I was a bit disappointed by that but I could work with it. My second weigh-in had me up 1.8 pounds.
That is when I fucking lost it…
Keeping my diet in check, working hard in the gym, cardio on the side, and somehow I weighed in higher than when I started? That morning I went out to breakfast with my family and I ate like I had something to celebrate. I had buttermilk pancakes, toast, sausage, and my daughter’s leftover home fries. When we left the diner I felt ill.
During the car ride home I began to think about everything I’ve accomplished over the past 6 months. Despite the weight loss stalling, my body has not stopped changing. My muscles are larger with more definition and my clothes fit better. Not only that, I’m physically stronger and more confident.
For weeks I allowed myself to obsess over a number on the scale. For a month I gave myself freedom from that stress only to allow it to creep back in my life. I feel foolish for not realizing it before. When my new pants are falling off of me and my wife is grabbing my ass more often than she used to, who care about a number on the scale?
Fuck weight loss, I want to be fit!
Going for a leisurely walk with my wife, playing soccer in the yard with my daughter, seeing my muscles bulge when I work hard in the gym, and even having to buy another pair of pants because the pair I bought a month ago are too big – those are some of the things that have put a smile on my face as of late.
I’m done obsessing over a number on the scale. The only weight I care about right now is the weight on the barbell and seeing it continue to rise.
2 thoughts on “F*ck Weight Loss, I’ve Had Enough!”
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Hey Walt,
I have gone through this myself, with a great run a couple of years ago and finding myself back at square one. My wife and I just got back into a diet and exercise routine to get back on track, and it is difficult. But, there are a couple of lessons I learned from 2 years back: a) I can do it, and b) that the scale is not an accurate measure of progress, especially when you cross the threshold between weight loss and muscle gain. Muscle, from what I understand, is 3 times the weight as an equal amount of fat. So, when you thought you started hitting that wall, according to the scale, you were likely progressing.
Like you say, f*ck weight loss, it’s really about fat loss in trade for muscle, which as it grows stronger, supposedly burns more fat. It’s definitely a lifestyle change and about mindset–keep it up, it’s totally worth it!
Keep it up Walt,
I bounce back and fourth between dieting and not, exercising and not. So it totally get where you are coming from. Keep strong!