This Side Note was supposed to be such a serious entry yet every time I read it, I am cracking up at myself. I mean, I actually threw a scale down the street; I know you think that’s funny too. I even video-taped with which is ever better! I can actually go back and listen to the rage as I threw the scale to meet it’s match with the asphalt.
And I’m proud to say, that since that day, I have only gotten on the scale for my yearly appointment and once at my parents house. I do not own a scale, and keep the little feet on my desk as a reminder that the scale does not mean anything and can only break me, like I broke it. Totally not worth having it around!
14 April, 2011
[[Side Notes: Abandoning the Scale
Does this look familiar?
No? Maybe this then?
Or how about this one? Looks like a normal corner, but…
What?! You thought I got rid of my scale? Well, I did, to an extent. I still have it in my possession.
But it doesn’t work. I broke it by throwing it down the street. You don’t believe me? I took a video of it, and here’s a snapshot.
Back in October I had had it. I bought the scale thinking I’d be able to step on it every once in a while, just to check and make sure my body wasn’t ya know, being uncooperative, but I couldn’t. I got obsessive and stepped on it every morning like clockwork.
Years ago I had a routine. I would wake up, I would pee, then proceed to read the newspaper. I would then wait for my body to have it’s natural “flush,”, strip down to my underwear and shirt and proceed to weigh myself. I did this every single day. And I weighed myself after I ran. After I ate. After I walked. After I drank. At the most, I probably weighed myself up to 8 to 10 times a day if the scale was available. Crazy right? But I was obsessed.
I thought I had gotten over that, but when I saw the signs coming back, always wanting to weigh myself and hope the numbers would reveal something different, I knew I was in trouble.
So one day back on the windy October afternoon with an impending thunder storm, I walked down the street to a never used street and let myself take out all the wrath on this planet and chucked my scale down the street. I thought the damned thing would shatter into a million pieces and I would squeal in delight but get this: the sucker stayed solid! Good god they make them indestructible!!!
The above pictures show what is left of my scale. It’s still whole yes, but will never be usable. All the tiny feet flew off when the scale hit the asphalt. The screen went completely black with lots of jagged lines across it, meaning the ink had leaked all over the place. The scale was no more. I still owned it, but it didn’t own me. And I let it know it.
I put that on there as a reminder to myself that the scale does not have any place in my life like it used to. My moods used to be determined by what the number said. I would determine how many miles I would have to run, how much I could eat, and if I was allowed to go out and be with my friends. It was like an abusive boyfriend that wanted me all to himself.
I can’t lie and say that everything was free and clear after I broke it and it was out of my life. I still had serious anxiety about what I weighed. I even asked my Mom and Dad to hide their own scale if I was coming home for the weekend so I couldn’t be tempted. It was hard, but not impossible to live without the scale.
There were many tough mornings where instead of using the scale to judge myself, mirror checks occurred and ruined my days. But I was able to get past them because my body adjusted. I grew in those months where I didn’t have the scale and started to live my life without a number lingering over my head. I was still struggling with changing numbers clothes wise, but that was a whole other issue in itself.
Anyhow, I went months without weighing myself. I was becoming more in tuned with my body and learning how to feed it properly and without guilt. It wasn’t until about a month ago that I was at home and saw my parents scale. I stood there staring at it, going back and forth between whether or not I should check. It had been almost 6 months and I was still fitting in the same clothes, so everything seemed fine.
I took a plunge and stepped on it. I stared at the wall for a minute (it’s not digital, so the number wasn’t going anywhere), part of me absolutely afraid to look down, and then finally made the glance down towards my feet.
My reaction was quite different than I thought it would be: surprise. In the span of those 6 months I had actually lost weight, but not by trying; Just by listening to my body and feeding it when it needed to be fed, and stopping when it was full. And giving it all the cravings that it asked for. I was amazed at how my body had just adjusted itself.
But I think the best part about it? Was that I was not excited that I had lost those pounds. My thoughts weren’t, “YES! I finally lost the weight I’ve been worrying about. Now I just need to keep it up and get further down.” Instead, I thought, “Well, I guess my body is finding it’s natural weight. Better keep on keep’n on with what I’m doing because my body feels pretty damned good!” Such a difference, wouldn’t you say?
Those 6 months were the freest months and I seriously think it is a HUGE contributor to how far I have come in those months. I have been able to start “letting go” of those awful feelings and feel guilt free of the things I eat. It’s amazing. And I think I have the scale to thank for it. For leaving my life and letting me live it without it.
So if you feel the same connection with your scale like I did, don’t be afraid to take the sucker and break it to smithereens. I won’t judge, and neither will anyone else. Believe me, before I actually broke it I would stare out over my balcony trying to figure out if I could toss it into the street without hitting any of the cars parked along the sidewalk. I found it to be very healing having broken it. It no longer had any control of me what so ever. But if you don’t think you can smash it, slowly take it out to your car, put it in the trunk, and on the way home from work that day, drive by salvation army or good will and leave it in the bin. You don’t even have to break or throw it away. Just leave it and walk away. It will never come back to you, I promise. ]]