Excuse number 1: I was tired.
Excuse number 2: My cat ate my notes. (This one isn't actually totally unbelievable - he genuinely tried to eat Harry's hat today. He must have lost a bet.)
Excuse number 3: I had a cold. Many people can testify to how pathetic I am when I have a cold.
Excuse number 4: I had lots of work to do. However, the fact that said work is writing articles and other blog posts just makes me look even more pathetic.
Excuse number 5: This is the biggie. My scales broke.
Not as in a "Ugh, I haven't lost any weight! They must be broken!" kind of way. I had stuck religiously to the plan, but after the first week I had apparently lost two pounds. This is a healthy weight to lose during a week, but what made me a little suspicious was that this was a median weight (mode? Mean? The average where it comes up the most, anyway) and my possible weight fluctuated by up to about two kilos.
I started the second week feeling a little deflated, understandably, but didn't buy any new scales as I was blaming the weight change on our ridiculously uneven floors. If I could only find a spot and stick to it, everything would be fine.
Week three came along, though, and this time the scales just wouldn't work. Ugh.
Wow, this post is so boring. I'm going to cut to the chase - some trouble with Amazon and then, finally, a successful delivery Of a brand new set of analogue scales meant that I started week four with an accurate weight, but no idea what I'd lost.
And what's worse is that I weighed a pound more than I thought I had at the start of the plan.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!
After many paddies and having thrown just about every toy I owned out of my pram, I eventually calmed down. Harry gently told me that the beginning numbers didn't really matter - I was on the right track. I had to be losing weight as I was eating less, and moving more. I can still do better with the moving bit, but still. It's got to be doing some good, right?
The problem is that I've been on so many diets and eating plans in my life, and every single one of them has focused almost completely on the numbers. Without that two pounds per week to refer back to as proof that I'm doing well, I feel like a failure. I feel like I have to show everyone some evidence for my new healthy eating plan to be worth anything, instead of focusing on myself and how I'm feeling.
Of course in the end the numbers do matter because the end goal is to get to a healthy weight, but what I find disappointing in myself is just how much they always seem to matter. The magic eight and a half stone mark is still more important to me at the moment than being able to run fast, and that makes me really sad. I've got lots of bad habits and mindsets to break, it seems.
I think the key to this is concentrating on the positives - I really do feel better. I have more energy, I generally feel happier (except when those bloody scales play up) and my friends and partner are noticing these changes in me. That dreaded cold didn't even floor me as per usual - it was just a few days of sniffles. I might not have had people telling me that they've noticed any changes to my body yet, but that's not the only thing that matters. And it's daft to wait for other people to validate your success, anyway. The only real success is me feeling happy in myself, and the only person who can make that decision is me.
Anyway, I'm babbling.
Despite these setbacks, I have eaten some very yummy things recently, and I promise that I'll share the recipes and photos. I'm writing this on my phone as I'm on a bus (ahhh, the wonders of modern technology) so I don't have the photos on me. There I go with my excuses again.
Do pop back and see me on here soon. I promise not to leave it so blimmin' long next time.
Let me know how you deal with setbacks - I'd love to hear from you!
