I remember when I stepped on the scale after three months with my trainer and saw I had lost thirty pounds. I was ecstatic & flying high. I walked outta that gym feeling taller, prouder than I had in years.
I had lost THIRTY fucking pounds in three months after going years without seeing the scale budge.
I went to a dinner that night & my beloved bread basket came. I thought, ‘I just lost thirty pounds, I can have a piece.’ Then the waitress asked if I wanted anything to drink.
I thought for a second, then ordered a wine, I mean after all, deserved to treat myself, right? I went on to have more bread, more wine leading to more poor decisions that weren’t in line with my goal of still having fifty more pounds to lose.
My trainer was smart; he had me keep a food journal that he checked every time we met. This way we could prevent me from going on a bender & waiting until the scale goes up to find out.
His only rule was honesty. So I was fucked & not in a good way. I was going to have to write all this crap I just ingested in that damn food journal.
I saw him two days later & his eyes got huge. Then he looked at my 10-year-old-daughter, who was with me at that session & said “Hide your mother’s scale”. He announced from that point forward, I was not allowed to weigh myself, & when he weighed me he would not tell me the number.
He told me I was cocky, resting on the laurels of losing 30lbs, and couldn’t be all loosey goosey with my eating. I wouldn’t be allowed to use the scale as a partner in my indulgent crimes.
I now employ this with my clients who also rest on their laurels and use the scale as an excuse to go off the eating wagon. I tell them “If you are cocky about all the weight you’ve lost, then I’m going to hide that damn scale, and only I will know if you’ve lost anything!”
Click on this video to hear my client who was caught resting on her laurels...