The Scale

Since I have struggled with my weight for the majority of my life, I find the scale both an enemy and a friend. When it is going down, a friend - a best friend. When it is going up, a mortal enemy - trying to steal any self esteem I have left. During this process, I have gone through phases of weighing myself everyday with glee - only to lead to near panic when the numbers became stuck at points, the dreaded plateau. Recently, I have been continuing to lose weight slowly, which after the early months post-surgery when the weight rapidly disappears, is anxiety causing. Because of this, I have been trying to maintain a healthy view of this weight loss slow down - as my bariatrician put it, "you're still losing" which made me feel better. Sometimes the old habits of fearing the scale start to take over if I haven't weighed myself for more than a week. In the old days, I just would have avoided the scale and continue the denial that I wasn't "that fat." Whereas now, I try to maintain the mindset that this is a marathon not a sprint. This is a lifestyle, not a fad diet. I have to be accountable to myself. Therefore, last night I resolved to weigh myself this morning. With butterflies in my stomach and waives of anxiety starting to chip away at my resolve, I stepped on the scale. I kept telling myself that no matter the number, it is a new day - a new moment, and I must deal with whatever the scale tells me. And, that the number on the scale - whether up or down is not a reflection of my self worth. Instead, it is a marker of where I need to be. No matter the number, today the scale fell in my favor. As of today, I have lost 131 lbs which is mind blowing. Another day I will talk about how this number is a source of pride and shame for me, and I think this may be true for many others like myself. But, like I said, let's save it for another day.