It was three days ago that I had my first official weigh-in, so I know better than to do what I did this morning. After my morning ablutions, I caught a glimpse of the scales out of the corner of my eye.
"Don't do it," I thought to myself. I paused, preparing to bugger off out of it and star tmy morning walk.
"Buuuuuuuut," whined the scales. I looked back.
"You did so welllll last night," they cooed. Vanity fluffed up the fuzz on my head and plumped the wobbly man-breasts underneath my T-shirt. I had, I agreed. Last night, after writing the blog, I got on the bike and rode for ten miles. Probably my best and longest trip in one stint...ever. Surely, the vanity reasoned...surely, if there was ever a day to have a quick sneak peak and see how well I was doing it, today was that day. I mean, the flab couldn't ignore my best and longest, ever, could it?
I pulled out the scales, breathed out and stepped on.
20 stone, 4.5 pounds.
Exactly what it was three days ago.
"Haaaaahaaaaa!!!" laughed the scales. "Gerroffme now, ya saddo!"
I nodded. I shouldn't have buckled under the temptation, but vanity is a fantastically powerful thing.
Now of course, it would be a better story if I said I'd gone through the whole day feeling dispirited and pondering whether the whole thing was worth it. But, c'mon, that only works in beach fiction. After all, it's only been ten days, and there are four more days before I weigh in again. What it did was serve as a salutory lesson - weigh in when you say you're going to, and only when you say you're going to - sneaking a peek inbetween weigh-ins only serves to either fulfill your vanity and make you go soft, or trounce your vanity and leave you wishing you hadn't given in.
So stand strong - avoid the curse of the peak-sneaker, and push on. It's the only way.
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