More like scary matters.

People. Confession … I did something completely psychotic and pretty stupid. I’m not trying to put myself down by saying that — I’m merely stating a factual observance of crazy behaviour.

I bought a scale.

Yeah. Allow that to sink in. I’m pregnant. Have never owned a scale before yet suddenly I think, omg! I DEFINITELY need a scale! MUST purchase scale! CRITICAL!

And I tried to tell Higher Self all this bullshit of, now self, it’s not what it seems. I am not comparing me to some meaningless number {liar liar!}. This is for my health and wellbeing.

No one dares ever argue with health and well being do they?

The BF certainly didn’t. I could tell he was thinking about it, quite long and hard, given the fact that he hid the scale from me on two occasions — only to return it because of bedroom threats {I know, how much lower could I have gotten? Yet how much less effective would I have been?}.

I keep rattling off how important it is for the health of the baby that I monitor my weight to make sure I don’t combust up 9 pounds in two days.

But, truthfully, it’s all bullshit. Total and complete bullshit.

I am going to gain weight. Let me say that again for exact soaking in emphasis. I am going to gain weight. I’m growing a GD f-ing human.

Self love and acceptance need to prevail here. And I think they will, after my little bout of crazy passes. And after I stop stepping on that damn scale at least four times a day. Wouldn’t once be enough? But no, oh no. I need to get on there before I eat, after I eat, before bed, as soon as I wake up.

WHY do I feel all this pressure to look good still? To maintain some image ideal standard? I can’t be alone in feeling this way, right?

I just want to feel good and look good for me. That’s the only thing that should matter but then I find myself comparing comparing comparing and worrying, will I still be as loveable bigger?

As though my size has anything to do with how worthy I am of love!

I have a 50-50 chance here of having a daughter and this is not the message I want to send to her. I’ll be damned, People. Just when I think I’m getting somewhere with self love, it has to rear its ugly scaley head.

So I feel like I’m taking 50 steps back, but it’s alright. Work in progress, as always. I can do love and acceptance, little by little, each day. I know there will be times where it feels like I’ll never get there but then again, I don’t think there necessarily is a set there.

More like a constantly changing destination I’m moving towards. And I’m going to be moving with one less thing from here on out: the damn scale.