My frienemy, the tape measure

In a lot of ways, I like the tape measure. It lets me feel accomplished when my other frienemy, the scales is being a bitch, and for me to keep chugging along at this weight loss thing, I need to feel like it's working.

However, the tape measure has the nasty habit of telling the truth. Now, I do believe that honesty is usually the best policy, but what's a little white lie among friends? If the white lie spares the ego of the fragile soul (cough cough, that would be me!) being lied to? No biggie.

I like getting on the scales to see that I've lost weight. Likewise, I like breaking out the tape measure and see that I've lost inches. But even when I lose, it's a reminder of how much I weigh and how big my measurements are. I know neither of these numbers are going to magically be dealt with, if I don't deal with them myself. But still. I don't like knowing that I weigh 170 pounds. So during Christmas, I've only gotten on the scales once. I hadn't gained anything, but then again, it was fairly early after having arrived home at my parents house, and before the baking had commenced. It's only Christmas once a year. I don't want to feel guilty for enjoying the home made Christmas cookies that I only get to eat in December.

I've employed the same method with the tape measure, though the two of us have been a bit distant with each other for longer than the month I've ignored the scales. It's been so long, in fact, that I do not remember what, exactly, my measurements were the last time I checked. I know the ballpark figure, because I feel like I've been hanging out in the same ballpark for ages, despite valiant efforts to find a new playground.

Tonight, my eyes fell on the tape measure as I was going to the bathroom to go to bed. I figured, what the hell. I did get into a pair of jeans that are a size smaller than my formerly smallest pair of jeans when my mom insisted on buying me pants. I started with my thigh. Usually the bane of my existence with their thundery-ness, I found that I could easily make them measure 23 inches. Note how I make the tape measure lie to me! I usually pull it extra tight to get an extra boost of confidence Yeah yeah yeah, I'm only fooling myself, but it makes me feel better to see 24 inches than it does to see 25 inches. Also, there are limits to how tight I can pull it before I completely cut of my circulation. However, this time I didn't really try to pull it tight, I just let it fit snugly around my thigh. And I still got 23 inches. I've never gotten anything under 24 before, regardless of all my best efforts.

Spurred on by my skinny thighs (ahem), I measured my calf. It usually hangs out at around 15.7 inches. Today? 15.

...

It sounds like it's so much less when I tell it in inches. It sounds much cooler to say that my calves usually measure in at 40-41 centimeters, but today they were measuring 38! 2-3 centimeters rather than a measly 0.7 inch. How about I operate within the metric system for now? For the sake of that fragile ego of mine that I mentioned.

I went on to my tummy. Which I shouldn't have. I can never decide if it's my thighs or my tummy that's the most important bane of my existence. I'm pretty sure both are banes of my existence, but you know... I don't know which is the baniest. After tonight, I'm leaning towards thinking it's the tummy. The tape measure showed no significant loss. When I measured where the waistband of my pants goes, it said 90 centimeters. When I measured where my waist actually is, it said 85 centimeters. I don't like it either way. What's the 'limit' for diabetes risk? Isn't it in this area? Also, to me it seems like I've been hanging out at this tummy circumference for-friggin-ever. I've heard that your tummy is usually the last place you lose fat, because the body wants to have fat there both to keep you warm and to help protect internal organs. I'm not sure how accurate that is, but to me, it sounds like a plausible explanation.

Despite the disappointment, I measured my hips and was surprised to see that their circumference is a dainty 99 centimeters. Okay, maybe not dainty, but I read somewhere that they've conducted studies that indicate that women with a waist to hip mratio of 80 to 100 live the longest. Does that mean that I am normal-hipped now? I still feel like my ass should come with one of them 'wide load' signs!

Anyway! The last hip measurement I can remember taking was a 106 centimeters. 6 centimeters lost? Score!

So, all in all, my tape measure and I are friends today!