Drat! Foiled AGAIN!

Today is my weigh in and I am up a pound. We returned from vacation (a very active one, I might add) on Sunday and I didn't dare weigh myself (ok, I did, and it wasn't pretty). So here I am, still up a pound. What gives?

I hardly think the day we have planned at the county fair tomorrow is going to help matters any.

Last night, I mentioned to Rob that I found it odd (and frustrating) that I keep repeating this strange, twisted cycle: I will think to myself that I look perfectly fine, actually pretty great, even admiring my own backside in the mirror from time to time! (ON occasion, IF I have really cute jeans on). Is it terrible to admit that? You do it too, right?

I'll be on a roll, running and working out, practicing yoga and feeling super centered and serene, only to get on the scale and realize that I've been kidding myself. I must have been imagining things. I must have some bizarre Narcissus complex, an exagerated self-confidence, an unnaturally high self esteem, because the scale is telling me that I'm a failure, a big fat loser. And then I do the strangest thing; I believe it. But that can't be, can it?  Scales can't talk, can they?

Why does mine?

I'm going to think about this awhile.....

I will probably do one of two things:

1) I'll shrug it off, and eat vegetable soup for three days after the fair and try again.

2) I'll throw out the scale and keep doing my best without weighing in so that I can at least imagine that I'm in control, and feel really good about it!

I'm taking bets if you'd like to place one.