Once a month, I weigh in and get a body fat analysis done by my trainer Brandi to see if all the squats, lunges, and crunches have paid off. If you’ve never had a body fat analysis done, you are missing a real treat. In the last year, I’ve had so many, they don’t phase me now but the first few were some of the more awkward moments of my life. In Brandi’s defense, she tried to make it all nonchalant. You know, as nonchalant as you can be with a 5’3″ 250 pound woman standing in front of you with nothing on but her sport’s bra and form-fitting knit capris. Once I was halfway undressed, Brandi got out her body fat measuring calipers which is essentially a vise grip for your fat roll. She took several measurements from various parts of my body, the spare tire around my middle, the flab on my bicep, that big hunk of back fat between my shoulders, and my muffin top that looked more like a three layer cake.* After all that, I stood on the scale to weigh in, all numbers integral to the body fat percentage calculation, numbers that had been slowly decreasing until last week.

I gained two pounds. I chalked it up to water weight, a little bloating and having soy sauce high in sodium the night before and it very well could have been any of those things but I knew it wasn’t. I knew I was playing loosey goosey with my eating plan, treating myself a little more frequently, and toning down the intensity of my workouts.

Instead of seeing this two-pound gain as a defeat, freaking out, throwing a pity party and unscrupulously blaming my husband and his secret stash of junk food, gaining those two pounds was a good thing. It made me assess where I was, where I was going and what was stopping me from getting where I wanted to be.

In my neck of the woods, this time of year, with deer season right around the corner, boys take to the fields spending countless hours sighting in their rifles to ensure they reach their target on opening day, poor Bambi, all grownup. I came home from work to find my darling husband doing just that in a tree stand affixed to a telephone pole in our front yard, shooting arrows at a cardboard cutout of a whitetail deer. We live in a condominium complex not a 50 acre farm. Heaven knows what the neighbors thought.

I needed to take a lesson from my husband halfway up a telephone pole taking aim at the flimsy cardboard buck. I needed to get a better vantage point and focus my sights to correct my aim. I redefined and set reasonable goals, decided what changes I needed to refocus my efforts and set my sights on the target. Hunters don’t just sight their gun in when they’re brand new, either. They continue to do so year after year whenever they feel their aim is a little off and I was going to have to do the same.

It’s open season at my house for fat that is. I’ve got my target in sight with my finger on the trigger. Y’all watch this. I just might hit where I’m aiming.

Hebrews 12:2 Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.image