Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Scale? Or Saboteur?

Before I started attending the Tyson Method Boot Camps, I was pretty obsessed with what the scale said.  In fact, there are still times when the number on the scale improves or ruins my day.

I found an article that describes exactly what I feel on the subject and what the Tysons are so brilliant and proving to all of us in the boot camps.

The scale is NOT what should make you feel pretty, healthy or happy.

This article was found on Weight Loss Rebels (I changed some of the words because I don't agree with the language used)

Read on and let me know your thoughts:


I’ve been on so many rants about this subject, but I thought it was finally time to put my thoughts together in something slightly more intelligible than a few curse word ridden sentences on Facebook. You’ll hear varying opinions about the scale from different trainers, some say that weighing yourself every day is great for accountability, some say don’t weigh yourself at all. Well ladies and gents, welcome to camp #2 AKA DON’T WEIGH YOURSELF!

Here’s why; unless you’re an athlete that requires your weight to be recorded for competition, or perhaps in another line of work that REQUIRES that number, your weight means NOTHING and it serves you no purpose to know it. Seriously. Think about it. Imagine you never weighed yourself again, how would that be to your detriment? It wouldn’t! I suppose if you avoid the scale while you stuff your face with Oreos and wallow in miserable denial about the number, it could potentially be a bad thing, but that’s not what we’re talking about here. I’m talking about your average person who’s just trying to get healthy and maybe lose a few pounds in the process.

The biggest reason I like the scale as much as I like getting sand blown in my eyes isn’t for the reason you think it is; it isn’t because the scale doesn’t reflect body composition and it doesn’t show you how hard you’ve worked or how much water you’re retaining or insert-typical-anti-scale-reason-here. Don’t get me wrong, those are all excellent reasons to avoid the box of unimportantness (that is not a word), they’re all true, and I use them as my own reasons periodically, but the number one reason I hate the scale is because people use it to TORTURE themselves.

It sits there in your bathroom waiting, just WAITING for you to step on it to make you feel bad about yourself. Oh you had a piece of pie last night? STEP ON ME YOU FAT COW. Let me show you how indulgent you are! Get over here so I can reflect your gluttonous, pleasure seeking self for all the world to see! You think you’re fat? Just wait until I toss this number out into the universe, that’ll teach you!

You get on that scale to punish yourself. It’s a literal, real world model of the lowest rungs of your self esteem ladder. Do we really need to manifest the deepest, darkest parts of our self loathing? Now this isn’t to say that every person that weighs themselves does so for masochistic purposes, but I’m not talking about those people either. They probably hop on the scale and give themselves a hug at the same time, I WISH I was one of those people. Chances are, you ain’t either.

The worst part about it is that it doesn’t seem to matter what that scale says, it could be a few pounds lower and you’d still be upset that it wasn’t LOWER, and if it’s the SAME, or HORRORS, HIGHER! That’ll send you into a full on mental breakdown filled with cupcakes and ice cream and french fries oh my! Bye bye motivation! I tried that hard and I gained weight? I’m such a loser! I knew I couldn’t do it. Pass the poutine (that’s french fries with cheese and gravy for you American folk).

I think the most revealing demonstration of the punishing, program-derailing effects of the scale have been witnessed when people are actually physically SMALLER (think inches) and the scale has gone up or stayed the same, and they’re mad at themselves. Think about that. SMALLER PERSON, MAD. It makes no shred of logical sense whatsoever, and yet I probably can’t count the number of times that it’s happened to people I train or those around me. It’s something to behold, a smaller person angry at their results. If anything I see a lack of movement in the scale paired with smaller measurements as the BEST possible outcome, because that means you probably didn’t flush your muscle down the toilet with your fat loss! Win win right! Errrrr…… no?

We need to lose the stranglehold that our relationship with gravity holds over our collective psyche. Think about how many times you felt great and that your clothes felt looser, then you got on the scale and POOF it messed up your entire day/week/insert-time-until-New-Years-Resolution. Now imagine you didn’t get on the scale. You’d STILL be motivated. You’d STILL feel great. You’d STILL be on track! Have I convinced you yet? Good. Here are some better ways to measure your progress:

1. Progress Pictures – Hands down one of my favourite ways to track progress, just ask my Ambassadors how much I love my side-by-sides.
2. Clothes – Are your clothes looser, then you’re smaller!
3. Measurements – Take measurements, they are MUCH less fickle than the scale and actually reflect if you’re getting bigger or smaller.

If you don’t like any of those options, don’t do ANY of it. I don’t care. But whatever you do, don’t use the scale as a way to tell yourself you aren’t worthy or that you’re fat/ugly/unattractive. You should take pleasure in food, you should take pleasure in eating tasty things, don’t step on the scale as way to exercise your nutritional demons. You don’t need to be punished for eating a few pieces of pizza.

In short (or really long and ranty), it’s time to get all Office Space on that hunk of junk. Take it to the field behind your house, toss it in the dumpster, run it over with your car. Target practice? I’m pretty sure you can throw a scale REAL far. PULL!!
You with me? I want to see those busted ass scales. It’s time to start a revolution of dictating our OWN success which does not involve triple digits!


Now there are days when I still step on the scale and cringe at the number and spend the rest of the day in a slump.  There are also days when I step on the scale, do a little dance and spend the rest of the day smiling and thinking things are going pretty good.  Whatever it is, the scale and number on it SHOULD NOT dictate our mood.  I'm going to try really hard to avoid stepping on the scale and having that number dictate my life.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

20 Years Ago Today

I remember where I was 20 years ago today, when we got the phone call that my grandpa had passed away.

My mom and I were at my grade 7 winter retreat at Red Rock.  It was a beautiful winter weekend.  While I was outside playing with my friends, one of my teachers approached me and said my mom needed to talk to me.

Right then I knew.

I felt it in my heart -- and cried.

I remember my Dad driving to Red Rock to pick us up, and I remember lying in the back seat the whole ride home -- remembering.

The first memory I have of my Grandpa is when I was about 3 or 4.  I remember waking up from a nap, walking into our living room and seeing my Grandpa there.  He smiled when he saw me.

A lot of my memories of my Grandpa included Hockey Night in Canada.

I remember sitting at his feet in their living room, listening to Hockey Night in Canada on the radio.

I remember the theme song.

I remember him explaining what "off side" and "penalty" meant.

I remember when he had his leg amputated.

I remember my Grandma changing the dressings with me in the room.

I remember how he never let having only 1 full leg slow him down.

I remember rides on his scooters to and from the park.

I remember his smile.

I remember his love for God, his Bible ever present.

Grandpa, I love you and miss you.

There are SO many things I want to share with you now.

I've told my kids about you and they would have called you Opa.


My Grandpa kept a garden.
A garden of the heart;
He planted all the good things,
That gave our lives their start.
He turned us to the sunshine,
And encouraged us to dream:
Fostering and nurturing the seeds of self-esteem.
And then the winds and rain came,
He protected us enough;
But not too much because he knew
We would stand up strong and tough.
His constant good example,
Always taught us right from wrong;
Markers for our pathway that will last
a lifetime long.
We are our Grandpa’s garden,
We are his legacy.
Thank you Grandpa, for all you've taught me.