Weighing In

I'm on a bit of a vacation this weekend, exploring Northern Michigan with my husband in honor of our 22nd wedding anniversary.

We are enjoying the views of Little Traverse Bay, shopping in fun boutiques, drinking local wines, and eating delicious meals. Lots of delicious meals. Too many delicious meals.

I'm not used to such indulgence, and I'm starting to get nervous. It's been three days since I weighed myself, and I'm convinced I've probably gained five pounds. Considering the fact that it took me three months to lose six pounds, this is quite a serious matter.

Or is it? Will the world stop spinning if I do indeed gain five pounds? Of course not, but it disturbs me that I'm even spending time thinking about it.

I'm on a lovely getaway celebrating a special occasion with a wonderful man. I'm enjoying all sorts of things about it, including the tasty foods that I normally deny myself. It is a perfectly balanced notion that I should indulge a bit on such a special occasion, right?

And forget about the blasted scale, and what it might indicate when I return to reality! Being away from it for a few days always reminds me that I rely on it to tell me whether or not I'm having a good day, whether or not I am a good girl or a bad one.

That's ridiculous. I don't need a scale to tell me that these days are a wonderufl blessing, a gift. Decadent food and all.

Thank you God, for your bountiful gifts, gifts that no scale can measure!