Point of Reference

I am the sort of person that doesn't concern myself with the specific numerical values of different things. I just look at how close or far from a normal position something is. Like when I purchase ground beef in bulk then weigh portions on the kitchen scale to put in the freezer in little one pound ziploc bags for easy cooking later. I throw some beef in the bag and if the marker falls two tick marks from my chosen magic location we're good. This method of relative estimation carries over into weighing myself on the scale every couple of days. I don't really read the number directly to know that I weight 142 lbs or 167 lbs. I just look at how close or far it hits from the nearest multiple of ten and figure that I'm up a pound or down a pound from the day before relative to the nearest big thick multiple of ten line marked on the scale. I have been monitoring the gradual ten pound weight gain since the week of Thanksgiving. Ten pounds. That's kind of a lot in my book for six weeks. I sure had a nice month and a half though of eating everything sweet. The results are beginning to show. I have at least stopped the upward climb and plateaued two pounds below the magic black line. I hadn't checked the scale in three, maybe four days. I had tried to stop my indulgent ways and felt pretty good about what I had eaten in the last few days. I even had carrots instead of popcorn or ice cream last night while we watched a movie after the kids were in bed. Boy did I feel amazing when the little black dial on the scale hit the big black line yesterday morning! Wahoo!! I did it. Magic carrots! I lost the eight pounds! I rule the world!! Errr...wait...what did I weigh before? Oh yeah. The devil is in the details. I was up two pounds, not down eight. Grrrrr! Being over thirty sucks. No more eating whatever. What I do actually has consequences now. Welcome to my new reality.