Every morning I get up and the first thing I do is weigh myself. I've been doing this since December. While I resisted weighing daily for quite a long time, I realized that I would never truly know my body unless I did so daily for a period of time. So every morning I weigh myself. And when I come out of the bathroom Pete asks me how much I weigh.
Now in the past I've run out of the bathroom to announce my weight, when it was a good/great one. I've come out sad and disappointed and quietly said my number too. Since the surgery I've come out with a puzzled look. This morning Pete asked me why I wasn't happy when I came out and I had lost another pound.
I can't quite explain it. I don't understand it. Maybe it's because I don't feel like I've earned the loss? I'm not working out to lose. Maybe it's the emotions of having surgery and adjusting to my new body system? Maybe it's because I'm in my second period of the month and my hormones are all out of whack? But for some reason, while I'm glad the weight is coming off, it's not the celebration I thought it would be.
I'm going to take this weekend to rest up after my exhausting week back at work. I'm going to try to get to the gym for cardio twice this weekend plus enjoy the nice weather outside. And I'm going on a date with Pete tonight to the Mall of America to walk around and hold hands. And I plan on thinking about all this too and seeing if I can come to any answers.