Fluctuation Station

scaleI can’t tell you the number of times people tell me “You look like you’ve lost weight!” I’ve written about it before.

It’s a nice thing to say. I’m not complaining about it. If you’ve said it, keep saying it. Not a bad thing for a lady to hear.

But the truth is I fluctuate. Because I’m a human being. And humans fluctuate.

I have a range of about 5-6 lbs that I flow between. When I’m really good about my diet and exercise, I get on the low end. When my schedule (and stress) picks up, it goes on the high end. And unless I eat really out of the ordinary- tons of food and calories for a long time or really restricting myself for a long time- I don’t change much. Even with all the exercise.

I’ve just learned to accept it and appreciate that my body likes to be at a certain number. Yes, I could really restrict and get myself down. I understand that there’s always room for improvement. But I don’t get mad at my body for not easily getting below that range even when I work at it. Why? Because I appreciate that it doesn’t go above the top of the range, even when I’m really negligent about my diet and exercise. It works both ways.

When I’m more consistent at the gym, I do notice a difference in my body both in the way it feels and looks. And that’s the reward for me. The scale is helpful as a once-in-a-while tool just to give a litmus test on where exactly we are in the range, but it’s not much more than that.

This is especially true as a woman because my weight naturally fluctuates depending on numerous factors. So I can’t get too upset if it changes all that much. So I don’t.

Instead I get upset that I cannot, for the life of me, figure how how much time to put on the microwave so my steel cut oats in the morning are actually cooked but don’t boil over and spill all over the microwave. Because they do that almost daily. And that shit drives me BONKERS.

But not the scale. That ain’t worth it.

Yeah. Imma end this blog with an ain’t. Been too darn tootin’ long since I wrote withah southern ax-ent. So here y’all go.

Darn tootin’.

Strange Taste

I have a weird palette. Aside from my sweet tooth, I actually really like healthy foods. Usually more than their less healthy counter parts.

I prefer steel cut oats with a little agave to Quaker Oats with sugary flavoring and maple syrup. I prefer two poached eggs with a little garlic to buttery fried eggs with tons of cheese. I prefer a tuna to pasta. I prefer salads to sandwiches.

I love juices and smoothies. I don’t like fast food. I don’t like hash browns but I love baked yams. I love the taste of wheatgrass. I sip it like a nice martini instead of taking it like a shot.

I don’t know if I’ve cultivated these tastes from years of watching what I eat and researching the benefits of healthy food, or if I just lucked out in the taste department and happen to prefer the stuff that’s good for my body. Either way, it serves me well.

Unless I’m hormonal. When I’m hormonal, I only want salt and vinegar potato chips and mountains of chocolate. But when I’m hormonal, I also prefer men who figure skate and talk feelings to my usual muscly caveman grunty type. So I’m not exactly myself.