We Broke Up

I've had an almost 20 year love/hate relationship with my frenemy, "the scale."

It all started in 8th grade when we were "weighed in" for the first time. I got my blue slip of paper that said, "113 pounds." I still remember. We weren't supposed to talk about our number...yeah right. So, I lied. All my friends weighed less than I did even though I was plenty thin and fit. I started weighing myself on our scale at home every now and then, just to check in.

During dance practices in my "awkward" years, I was told to "suck in," and I watched others be praised for their still very girlish bodies. Mine was changing and I couldn't do anything about it and I didn't like it one bit. I hated everything that got bigger...I noticed rolls where I barely had any and invented cellulite when I looked at myself from behind. I started "watching" what I ate but knew too little about nutrition to realize that "low fat" often meant "high calorie" and along with natural body changes at my age I ended up gaining weight and hating the way I looked.

Then came high school. I danced and wore leotards and tights in front of an entire school. You can't help but compare. The summer before my junior year I ended up loosing about 7 pounds...on accident. Just a lot of running and practicing and my body settling in to itself. I was weighing myself every day, sometimes twice a day. I was getting a lot of attention and positive praise for my new, fit shape and it felt good. If 7 pounds was good, then more would be better, I was sure. I found a book about calories and memorized every entry of every food I ate. I exaggerated my own caloric intake and stopped eating everything I liked: pizza, bagels, cheese, chocolate, dessert, salad dressing and talked myself into the fact that I didn't like any of those things....I was oh so in control and getting oh so skinny. The scale was my very best friend. My happiest time of the day was when I stepped on the scale and saw the numbers go down. Really, truly, nothing tasted as good as skinny felt. I often wondered why everyone didn't live like I did--I felt fabulous.

The college years didn't get much better, in fact without homecooked meals and healthy food, they got worse....I lived on a ridiculous amount of bubble gum, tic tacs and Diet Coke. I ran at least 5 miles a day and took exercise classes. Looking back, I can't believe I could function at all let alone pull the grades I pulled.

I brought my scale to college. I remember weighing 6 times a day. I remember weighing with all my boots and coats on, then taking each article of clothing off until I was left with nothing on and the smallest number the scale could find for my body. I'd step on it 3 or 4 times just to make sure that was as low as it would go.

I remember mornings after I'd allowed myself to eat with my roommates and the scale showing a bigger number than the day before. It was a bad day. I would try and fast the entire day or eat only cabbage and mixed vegetables or just the skin of an apple. I'd vow to never eat treats again. I always felt hungry.

There were some really bad times...and so much detail that would bore you to death. There was a time when my body shut down and said, "Enough." It was the summer after my freshman year. My hair started falling out in clumps in the shower, my period stopped, I felt like I had to lie to everyone. It wasn't good and it scared me. After that, I tried to at least be a little smarter about it. I started eating a little more and started eating low calorie foods that were high in nutrients. I put on 2.5 pounds and it killed me. But, my period came back and my hair stopping coming out in clumps.

Looking back, I feel extremely blessed to have been able to always consume just enough to not permanently ruin myself. I feel so blessed that I was able to still get good grades and feel friendly, happy and confident most of the time. I'm so grateful for loving and supportive friends and family. I'm so grateful that I was never able to make myself throw up...because I would have tried that too, I am sure.

After marriage, at the urging of Mike, I let go a bit, and I didn't know how to control anything. If I started eating, I couldn't stop. My body was in a feast or famine mode and didn't know when it would be fed again. Still weighing multiple times a day, most of the time it ruined my day. I'd go the whole day without eating anything, then binge from the time I got home from work. Mike's love sustained me and made me feel thin and beautiful and amazing even when I wasn't. Boy am I grateful for him.

Luckily, having babies reset my metabolism and view on health. But still, nothing more exhilarating for a scale addict than watching the numbers go down after having a baby. Such a rush. After having Jace, I got a lot healthier. I started eating healthier, doing moderate exercise, and eating more often. My metabolism kicked in again and I feel so lucky that it does its part. I also feel very lucky that I didn't permanently ruin myself. I'm still pretty careful about what I eat and boy how I've always loved my scale.

Even as a mother, I'd set my scale 4 pounds heavy...just so I would never be surprised by the number on any other scale. There was no worse feeling than thinking I was one weight then stepping on a different scale and seeing I was wrong, in a bad way. If mine was 4 pounds heavy, I'd always be pleasantly surprised by another. I've weighed myself at least twice a day, every day for the last 7 years.

My weight in the morning decided lots of things: if I should feel happy, if I should smile, if I should think about others, if I should eat breakfast or lunch or just wait until dinner, if I could have dessert, if I should wear a fitted shirt, if I should cuddle up with my husband. I still did these things, but it took work. I could be feeling great, feeling like I looked great, then step on the scale and it could change everything.

I brought my scale on vacation in my suitcase...after all, how could I enjoy a trip without knowing my weight?

Then we moved. I left my scale in Arizona and my cheap self didn't want to spend our money on a new one. So, for the first time in 18 years, I'm scale-less!!!!! I love it. I check in with the scale once a week at the gym (I feel like it's healthy to know where you are at) and that's it. I've been amazed that I'm still the same as I was before. I didn't think I'd ever be able to self-regulate without seeing the numbers on the scale, but I found out, I can.

In the beginning I didn't know if I should feel like I was having a "fat" day or a "skinny" day. I realized I'd never really looked at myself, I just trusted the scale to decide for me. It decided everything for me...it's been a whole new adventure to decide if my body needs another helping or if it's okay to have some chocolate or if it's time to turn up the exercise, but it's been really, really good.

Kind of a long post that is probably boring to most, but in a really weird way, I'm really proud of myself. I feel great, healthy, fit and actually normal and it feels good....My scale and I now have a much healthier relationship...laid-back, casual, and no longer toxic.