Yesterday morning, I woke up — ready.

I’d been preparing for this day for months. From the first moment the physician’s assistant at my orthopedic surgeon’s office told me I needed to lose more weight before surgery, I’ve had a desire to show them I could do it. I stumbled, at first, because at that point I’d been struggling with breaking a weight plateau and my weight had drifted up, but I went in for a follow-up, trusting that once I actually talked to the surgeon instead of a PA, that things would go differently.

Instead, he told me — a bit nicer than the PA — that I still needed to lose more weight. He gave me suggestions. I listened. And I’ve been working my butt off (quite literally) since that point.

So when I woke up on the morning of my scheduled appointment weighing a full 27 pounds less than the last time I was in their office, I was ready to show them that I am strong. I am capable. And I am ready.

Imagine my surprise when they called me before the appointment and told me the x-ray machine was broken and I would need to reschedule.

I’ve lost a 170 pound, 6 foot tall UFC fighter.

And so I wait — another 10 days or so. It’s not the end of the world, but next week is spring break, I am going camping, and I had planned on not being quite as stringent with my food plan as I have been over recent months. I wasn’t going to have a food blowout, but I was also going to enjoy a few choice meals that I knew would likely cause a temporary weight gain.

And mind you, here I am, a mere smidgen away from my short goal, on top of everything else.

So it’s come down to choices: what do I want, more? A few heavier meals while camping? Or a double opportunity: the chance to achieve my short goal and also march into the doctor’s office on the Monday after vacation, still showing them what I’m made of, with no gains?

The choice is both tough and easy. Of course, I want to show them what I’m made of, and I will. But this comes down to choices: the short term delight of a couple of treats, or the long term achievements of not only passing my short goal but perhaps dropping even more weight before standing on the doctor’s scales.

Normally, I would not be this scale-driven. I firmly believe in non-scale victories (NSV), and that they are at least as important, if not more important, than a number on a scale. I believe that food adds to our quality of life, and that the occasional dietary bend is okay (as long as it’s not a full break). But in this instance, I’m being judged by that number — and so I am determined to make this third time a charm.

I have to accept that at least until I have what I believe I need (knee surgery), I will have to play by someone else’s rules rather than my own. I’m giving myself a gift that’s a lot more important than a couple of meals that will be forgotten not long after they’re consumed. My planned roadside stop is going to have to wait until I’ve eased on down the road a bit more.