I hate my scale

I can remember days that my scale and I were good friends.  Each week I could see the pounds coming off and I like best buds, I couldn't wait to see that scale and know how well I had done.

My scale and I now have a hate relationship.  I hate looking to see what I have done to myself.  For the first time in many, many months, I weighed myself this morning; knowing the number would not be good.  While it is possible I have been over 300 pounds before, this morning really hurt.  I once told myself that I refused to see a 300 or over on that scale.  Today, I saw that shattered.  305.  It really is a gut check (literally).  I have allowed myself to break a promise I made and push that number over the top.  It explains why I have felt even worst recently.  It explains why I can't find the energy to do things.  It explains why my clothes fit so badly.

I still am determined that I won't allow myself to see myself as a number.  My health is worth more than what that scale tells me.  I am still want the measure of my health to be how I'm feeling.  The energy I have.  The pain I don't have.  The length of time I can exercise for.  The way my clothes fit me.

I keep telling myself that moving in May will be a fresh start, but that's a cop out.  I can make fresh starts now that will only get better once May gets here.  I can go into my fresh starts already with some good foundations in place.