John and I have been working on our health. We've cut down on sugar, and replaced two of our meals with one smoothie. He is the Vitamix man, and creates a concoction of frozen fruit, flax seed, spinach, nuts, cacao, ginger, and a shifting recipe of other ingredients. Plus we each have committed to more exercise than the last two years have demanded. John does lunges, the treadmill, and push ups. I walk. Several good friends keep me honest, and tug me to hike a little farther than I otherwise might. Our kids have been our cheering section, and bought us fitbits for Christmas to calibrate progress. It boosts my resolve to see the number of steps. 

 

After four months we both felt like it was making a difference. John cinched his belt two notches tighter, and I sewed darts in some pants. But the last few weeks have been stagnant. The digits on the scale were discouraging. I began to wonder if it was indeed worth it. My experience was that I was skipping desserts, but the scale did not reflect that. I thought about revolting. Something drastic, like a brownie. 

 

Then yesterday the scale surprised me. It suddenly reported a drop of twelve pounds. Was this possible? Maybe it was making up for past mistakes and finally gave me the accolades I deserved. I stood taller in the belief that I was succeeding. All plans to indulge disappeared. 

 

Sometimes when I am interacting with strangers in a store or on the phone there is a phrase that I sprinkle in with my gratitude. If a clerk helps pack my groceries, or a sales rep solves an issue on the phone I say it. 

 

"You are so kind." 

 

I mean it, in that their behavior to me in that moment is gracious. It occurs to me that perhaps they do not hear it enough. There is also the possibility that having that calibration of their actions can invite them to step deeper into such a quality. 

 

 

Later that day John explained about the scale. 

 

"It was partly on the rug and partly on the floor. That's why it misread your weight."

 

Shucks. Maybe I will ignore the facts, and stick to the illusion that keeps me trying.