I have a love-hate relationship with the scale. In the past, the hatred was greater than the love, but I'm starting to see the scales ever more like my friend. Because if the getalle gently go down, that means I'm doing well. And if they go up or stay the same, then there is nothing wrong, but I can timely intervention.
Recently I again scales in the house. Two even. A to weigh myself and to weigh my food. The advantage of the latter is that I do not make too much food and therefore more economical omspring all healthy goodies that I've taken. In the past I did eat an amount of feeling and landed a part in the bin. Sin! Now I eat what I make and have enough of it.
The scale is persons in a visible place in my house. I'm there once a week to see if I make progress. For a long time I was hesitant to purchase another one. I became quite obsessive by the numbers. If I had lost no weight hit then I found myself badly and I went to eat less. It never occurred to me that my body could well be in power save mode because I ate too much. Any extra calorie, which I then received inside was then converted into even more fat.
Meanwhile I'm already behind I need enough fuel to keep running my body. So I eat five to six times a day. Usually very healthy and unhealthy because sometimes I think that I feel good. Then I come to the conclusion that health is still better.
Last week I was myself a scoop of vanilla ice cream of the Italian. Because I found that I felt like it. After three lick I discovered that it did not taste me. Before, I would have eaten the ice cream anyway. I threw it away. Why quit anything in my body that I do not enjoy?
And the scales? Wednesday I was on the hightec thing from my dietician. My knees gave way to joy when I found out I'm half kilos lighter than four weeks ago. Especially since I lost two kilos of fat and won half a kilo of muscle mass. We were good friends so this week, the scale and me.