My name is Linda, I’m a weighaholic. It’s been three days since I last weighed myself.

I had gotten into the habit of weighing and recording my weight daily, tracking in my food and fitness diary, and even tracking on an online site with all sorts of impressive graphs and statistics. I’m now under instructions from Michael to weigh just once a week. Somehow, Michael has even gotten to my husband who has hidden away my scales. It’s a conspiracy.

On Sunday, (the day after my official weigh-in day) the urge to weigh got the better of me.

“C’mon. I’ve been doing this weight loss thing my way. It helps me to weigh every day. What’s the harm if it helps? When have I ever allowed my daily weighing to derail or discourage me, huh?” I asked my husband, defiantly seeking access to the hidden scale.

“At least once a week.” He replied in the calm matter of fact way that makes it impossible to have an argument with him. What is the point of arguing with someone who stays calm and doesn’t get angry? No point.

Like a knock-out punch when you’re already going down, the memories of my regular moaning at fluctuating weights, lack of reduction on the scale especially after a very good day, the oh it could be just water retention, hormonal changes, perhaps I had more salt than usual, I worked out too hard (really), the daily analysis and of course the oh well, I won’t lose anything this week, I might as well have that, all came flooding back.

I knew I’d lost an argument. The scales stayed hidden.

I had another great session this morning with Michael. I love the fact that every time we work out, there is something new that uses previously undiscovered muscles. I feel like an excitable child but I am knackered. It is great to be knackered.

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