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Presurgery Weight: 282 pounds
Current Weight: 222 pounds (15 weeks after surgery)
I think I’ve developed a special relationship with my scale to the point where I do not like it. Did I say I didn’t like it? I’m sorry... I hate it.
I feel like I’m stuck in the movie "Groundhog Day." For those of you who have not seen the movie, the main character wakes up on Feb. 2, which is "Groundhog Day," and replays that day over and over and over again. I can relate.
Every morning I wake up, crawl out of bed, walk to the bathroom and step onto the scale. I’ve been really pushing myself at the gym and with my cardio, so naturally I’m thinking in my head that I should lose something, right? I stare down at the scale… hmm, 225, I’m getting down there.
My nutritionist advised me at my last appointment that I will drive myself crazy if I keep weighing myself, and that my weight will fluctuate due to things like water retention. I know she is right, but I just can't help myself. I think some alien being possesses my body and forces me to stand on that stupid scale. Because if I were in my right mind, I would not weigh myself every day.
Day 2 comes and, again, under no control of my own I find myself on the scale staring down at 225. Then comes day 3, day 4, day 5, day 6. OK, a week later 2 pounds lost, maybe? Just 2, please? I get up, anxious to get on the scale, confident I’ve lost a little and stare down. You have to be joking! It tells me I weigh 227. I get off and get back on, as obviously there must be some kind of mistake. I look down and, again, it says 227.
I guess I should have been more specific when I screamed up to the heavens "Just 2 pounds, please!" I decide that I am under no circumstances going to weigh myself for a week, and just to be sure I yell to the heavens, "Just 2 pounds lost, please," in case that works.
I decide to put the scale in our spare room, figuring out of sight, out of mind. The week goes on and I desperately want to take a peek at the scale.
Finally, the seventh day comes. I run to the spare room and recover my long-lost friend. I gingerly step onto the scale and am prepared for whatever it decides to grace me with. I look down and … and ... you've got to be kidding! It reads 225. Back to square one.
I slump off the scale, pick it up and run to my window. I would have chucked it if my husband hadn't stopped me. That scale is lucky. It may have won this time, but this means war.
I decide to take another week off from my scale. He’s on restriction at the moment — oh, so evil, that scale.
The seventh day arrives once again. I jump on the scale and 220! Wahoo, I’ve won!
Then my husband says “Sweetie, your pants are really baggy."
I’ve been so consumed with what the scale was telling me that I forgot all about what my body was trying to tell me, which was the same thing my doctor, nurses and everyone else was telling me: “Jodie, muscle weighs more than fat. Just because you are not losing the weight, you are losing inches.”
And, I really had. I went down two pant sizes in three weeks. So I guess the point — the very important point — is that the doctors, nurses and nutritionists, as well as everyone else helping you, do know what they are talking about.
My advice: Stay away from the scale by only weighing yourself once a week and pay attention to the inches you are losing, and not just what the scale tells you. Follow more of Jodie's ongoing weight-loss journey.
For More Information
If you would like to start your own weight-loss journey at Sharp Memorial Hospital, learn more by attending a free informational seminar. To register, call 1-800-82-SHARP (1-800-827-4277) or register online at Sharp weight-loss surgery seminar.