Seven weeks in and the scale hasn’t budged. I hold back a sigh and the tears that want to flow. The guardian of the scale averts her eyes, glancing at her manual of helpful tips.
She finds something, I guess; her head lifts and she says, “You’ve come now for seven weeks and that shows perseverance. Not to mention maturity and determination. It will happen.”
I breathe deeply, I want to believe her, I want to lose weight. Maturity? I feel like a child without Christmas. Determination? I’m doubtful. But she’s right; I’m still attending. Still looking for the lighter me.