On my 29th birthday I went to Old Navy to buy myself a pair of fat jeans. I cried in the fitting room and vowed that I would make some healthy changes before I hit the big 3-0. Granted, I had a five month old baby and a two-year old at home, leaving me with pregnancy weight and little time on my hands for exercising. And though I had plenty of reasons to wait to lose those extra pounds, I knew it was all those
that landed me crying in a fitting room at Old Navy in the first place.
And so I kicked all those reasons to the curb and just did it.
Now I’m walking the fine line between managing my weight and obsessing over it. I realize that my weight fluctuates daily for a variety of reasons so instead of aiming for a special number, I have a five pound window and as long as I’m in the zone, I try not to let the scale bother me. But it does. So every time I get on my scale and see a number I’m not in love with, I remind myself of all the good reasons the scale is a liar. And then I laugh because I think I’m funny and it burns calories.