The relationship has become more defined as I try to navigate this whole post-baby body bull shit. I workout, I track my food, I try to eat things I should and avoid the crap. I try to trust in the process. Yet, when I step on the scale it gives me a big middle finger and displays the same number time after time after time. Or, when it's feeling especially sassy, the number goes up.
I hate it. It hates me.
On the rare occasion, after a few weeks of unacceptable numbers from the scale and me on the verge of going all "Office Space" on it, the number jumps down 2 pounds.
The challenge of losing the weight would be enough to drive even the sanest of people crazy but add in sleep deprivation and hormones and ... well ... it's been tough.
Thankfully, I've found solace in the NSV – non-scale victory to those who haven't spent hours in a Weight Watchers meeting room.
There have been some ever satisfying comments from friends who compliment me and tell me they can notice a change – even if the scale is still on my bad side.
Maybe, though, the most rewarding has been checking myself out in the mirror when I teach class. I can see my muscles – the definition in my shoulders, the biceps pop when I curl. I might not ever be skinny-skinny the way I was at my lowest weight two kids ago but damn if I won't be strong.
So the scale can suck it. I might be losing weight at a snail's pace but I'm taking back my old self piece-by-piece.
*Obviously, I have been watching far too much "Grey's Anatomy" while I nurse.