One week ago today, I officially recommited to being healthy and losing weight. My restart weight was 224.8. I stayed off the scale all week, hoping to happily surprised when I weighed myself this morning.

I woke up this morning anxious to see how much I'd lost this week. I was hoping for at least 2 pounds, but in all honesty, I was thinking 5 would be great. I was counting on losing some water weight since my eating habits prior to last Wednesday had been atrocious. I thought back to when I first started on this journey in August of 2011--the first week I lost 9.5 pounds. I wasn't going to get my hopes up too high by hoping for 9.5 again, so 5 seemed reasonable.

I walked into the bathroom, shut the door for some privacy (and locked it, too. I have 3 kids. Privacy is a fleeting luxury around here). With great anticipation, I stepped on the scale, crossing my fingers and hoping to see a number below 220. The numbers flashed, signaling the scale was done weighing me.

Disappointment.

225.6

I actually gained weight.

For a brief moment, I wanted to cry. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't upset and sad. I worked so hard this week. I ate right. I drank my water. I did everything I was suppose to do to see results. And how does my body thank me? It goes and gains a half a pound.

I took a deep breath, put my pajamas back on, and turned to look in the full length mirror hanging in the bathroom. I made myself look into my own eyes. And instead of talking negatively to myself, I decided to focus on what I really saw.

Collarbones. My 25+ pound gain hadn't buried my collarbones again. I thought back to the first time I'd discovered them after losing about 60 pounds. I smiled. Then I stood on my tippy toes with my back to the mirror. Calf muscles. Though not as defined as they had been 8 months ago, they were still there. My cankles had not made a return despite gaining back 25+ pounds. Then I looked at my face. Still noticabley slimmer than it was 18 months ago.

As I stood there somewhat disappointed about the gain for the week, I began to realize that this journey isn't about the weekly gain/loss. It's not about an arbitrary number on the scale. Before when I was focused on a healthy lifestyle, I put so much into what the scale said week to week. It really affected my mood. I don't want it to be that way this time.

The scale may have said that I gained weight this week. Good for you, scale, good for you. But what I can't deny is how I feel.

I feel empowered.

I feel healthy.

I feel happy.

I feel good about what I've been eating.

I feel good about my future.

I feel good about my goals.

I feel good about the kind of mom I've been this last week.

I feel strong.

I feel good about how hard I've been working out.

I feel courageous.

And I refuse to let a "bad" week on the scale to refute my hard work and to strip away all those good feelings. I know that if I keep putting in the hard work, the scale will follow eventually. The human body is a mystery sometimes. But what I do know is that I can do this, because I've done it before. I will not weigh 225.6 forever. Eventually I will see a number below 200 again. I know it, because I've done it before.

The scale can say what it wants to say. I'm done allowing the scale to be the only measure of my progress. I'm going to stay focused on how I feel. I know I'm doing the right things. I know I'm working hard, and I know that I will reach my goal as long as I stay dedicated.

So, take that scale. Thank you for that half pound gain this week. It has only strenghtened my resolve to work harder this week and in the weeks to come.