I bought a set of scales yesterday. For the past year, I've been weighing myself once a week at my parents' house. Now, it was time to get my own set. Since I was a teenager, I had a fear of the scales. It was so bad that I didn't get on a set of scales for years. I don't even know how many years. I wasn't like those folks on the Biggest Loser (which is one of my favorite shows, by the way), so I didn't need to get on those stupid scales. I exercised for crying out loud, it couldn't be that bad, right? Right? Then one day...

I was working out in our gym at work, and I felt really good about my 30 minutes on the elliptical. I FELT like I had lost a little weight, so it couldn't be that bad. Let's see what they say, I thought. Um, wow, I wonder if these scales are broken. No worries. There's another set right over there. They'll be right. I'm sure there's something wrong with the first set-whoa. Are you kidding me?? What.The.Hell. I had a bigger problem than I thought. This HAD to be fixed.

Thus, began the weekly weigh-in. Once a week, at my parents' house. I still had enough of a fear of them that I didn't want them in MY house. But slowly, that fear became determination, and the scales became a tool that I needed to succeed in my weight loss journey. Now I have my own, and I'm anxiously awaiting Wednesday which will mark the beginning of my love/hate relationship with my scales. I will weigh in and if I've broken the plateau, I will love them. If I'm still at the same weight or if, God help me, I gain, then I'll try my best not to throw them out of the window. :o)