I’m in month five of a very stubborn stretch. My weight has been circling the same two pounds since the middle of March, even though I’m still logging, still walking after dinner, and still measuring the oatmeal instead of eyeballing it.
Last night I made a pot of lentil soup, portioned it into five containers, and felt weirdly proud — not because the scale moved, but because that’s one small thing I can control.
The frustration is real: I want the graph to reward the effort. But I’m trying to treat this like brushing my teeth, not a performance. My new rule is one boring habit repeated daily, plus one thing that makes me laugh.
Yesterday it was a terrible reality show and an early bedtime. For those who have come out the other side of a long plateau, what kept you from bargaining with the scale every morning?