The devil is a liar and so is that scale I stepped on this morning…

In my fantasy world, at 40+ I wouldn’t still be having this conversation/battle/issue.  My MIND knows that the scale is not the only indicator of health, what I did or didn’t do right last week, or how great a human being I am. My mind knows this. My HEART though, sinks, every time I get on that *&!#@ scale and it hasn’t budged, a bit. Or worse, displays a number that is mind bogglingly higher than it was the day, week or month before. Sinks. Every time.

I’ve been journaling since I can remember. I have years worth of cute little journals dating back from when all I longed for was for so-and-so to do such-and-such or my heart would shatter. As I got older the heartfelt pining  evolved into writing about my faith, the world around me, gratitude – you name it. The one constant? Writing about my weight – how much I weighed. How much I didn’t weigh. How much weight I would lose this week and the week after that. When I got computer savvy I even started including charts and graphs detailing goal weight vs. actual weight, calories, carbs, proteins… I may have even included some algorithms and theorems. No.

All of this plotting, planning and predicting served to place the emphasis on the numbers on the scale and not what I was putting into my body. Ironically (or not) the time in my life when I was at my healthiest – when I was taking Karate classes (yes, I am, in fact, a yellow belt), playing tennis a couple of times a week, going out bowling with friends and eating a mainly vegetarian diet, I didn’t own a scale. I had no idea how much I weighed, and I couldn’t have cared less.  I also couldn’t have been happier. I miss being in that place. My mind misses that place, and so does my body.

So, why do otherwise intelligent women beat themselves up about that number? Why do we abuse ourselves mentally (and sometimes physically) in a manner we wouldn’t allow anyone else to treat us? Is it about health? For many of us yes, but it goes beyond a quest for health for many others and borders on the edge of self-acceptance and self-worth.

As I was reviewing the draft of this post I came across this post from a blogger I follow. It talks about the vicious cycle of daily weighing and why we shouldn’t do it. I couldn’t agree more. Yet, I still find myself wanting to check the scale more mornings than not.

What’s your relationship with your scale? Is it different now than it was when you were younger? Please share your thoughts in the comment section or on the Facebook page.

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Blogger, self-proclaimed-philosopher, voracious eater and opinion sharer.

  • Kalin

    My scale broke a year ago (did I do that?) and yet I don’t really miss it.  Now I check my weight about once a month.  How my clothes fit is starting to matter more to me than how much I weigh.  That’s a change that came after turning 40.