I haven’t been weighing myself. “Weighing yourself is bullshit!” I proudly proclaimed to my wife, at the start of the year. “It’s just a number! I choose to measure myself on how I look, and how I feel!”
Folks, it’s the end of February. It’s time to start weighing myself.
Now don’t get me wrong — I still think it’s a bullshit metric. But it’s a metric, and frankly, I don’t think I look or feel much fitter than I did at the start of January. Maybe, hopefully, there are some big changes going on inside me, what with the not drinking and not eating as much junk.
Weighing myself versus “feeling different”
Part of it is weight gives me a number that I can look back to. I feel the way I feel, all the time. There’s no way to feel other than how you’re feeling in the moment. It’s hard to remember feelings the same way you can look at a number.
So maybe I feel a whole lot better now than I did in January. But short of keeping diaries — which is a good idea, and I’m all for it, but it’s not something I’m doing — I don’t have an easily referenced record of feelings.
Therefore, I’m reluctantly reversing my position on weighing myself. But I want to weigh myself right, if you know what I mean.
Over the next few days, I’m going to look into the science of weighing oneself. How often? What time of day? Clothed or unclothed? If I’m going to badger myself into doing it, I might as well badger myself into doing it right.
I still think it’s kind of bullshit. It’s possible to lose all kind of weight and be super unhealthy. I mean, heroin is a thing, am I right? But I’m feeling like having some sort of external tracking motivator would be good for me, and that’s the most convenient option on the table.
201.2 pounds, incidentally.