I accidentally saw my weight back in June 2017. It’s the first time I’d seen my weight in two-and-a-half years. It’s the first time I’d even thought about my weight in over a year. In eating disorder recovery, you are blind to your weight in addition to calories and other nutritional information; those numbers trigger the eating disorder voice to scream that you’re fat or getting fat, eating too much, and doing “healthy” wrong. It’s dangerous to see your weight.
When I saw mine back in June, I was a little shocked, but I also had enough (strong) recovery under my belt to know that I felt great, my clothes fit, and I was comfortable inside my body. That number didn’t matter, and it held no value for me. I let it go.
This week I accidentally saw my weight again. The nurse was new so she didn’t know to keep the weight blind; I didn’t even think to let her know I needed my weight to be blind; and I wasn’t careful about avoiding my eyes. It was a careless accident, and the number has been aggravating my mind like a loose hangnail. My weight was higher than it was in June, which my eating disorder voice was quick to point out: “You’ve gained weight! You knew it. You suspected it and now you know. What are you going to do about it!?”
What am I going to do about it?? Should I do anything about it? Why did I gain that weight? Am I not paying attention to my body? What am I doing wrong? Am I going to keep gaining? Am I eating too much? Too much sugar? Too much fat? Am I not moving enough? What the hell?
The sudden anxiety questioned all the body advocacy and intuitive eating truths I believe; all the messaging on this blog about not worrying about weight and body size became burdened with doubt.
Because of a stupid number.
This is why the scale is a dangerous piece of junk!
The number coming from an inanimate object made of plastic and metal doesn’t have the power to change anything about me, so why let it have a say?
Who cares if I put on a few pounds? Only my eating disorder cares.
Did the core of who I am change? Nope.
Am I still a good mom? Yes!
Do I still have an active heart and belief in the people for whom I advocate? Yes!
Does my husband still wrap his arms around me telling me how much he loves me, loves my humor, and honors all the things I do for my family? Yep!
Do I still believe that God is in charge of my body and my body knows what it’s doing? Yes!
Then what’s the problem?
No one needs a scale. All it does is connect us with a number and distances us from our bodies and God. The scale induces anxiety, food rules, self-doubt, and shame–the barriers to body love and the joy to live freely inside our bodies as God intended. Or if you like what the scale says because you value the number or drop in number, then your sense of worth and accomplishment are being validated by something that has no life and no vested interest in who you are.
The only people who need to know your weight are your doctors, and they can get that themselves–blindly! Turn your back; avoid your eyes; tell the nurse you don’t need to know. Look, if you own a scale. Smash it. I mean that literally. Smash it to pieces and then make art out of the debris. I did this with a friend of mine a couple years ago, and wrote about it here. It is so liberating! Also, it wasn’t my idea. Check this out: https://www.southernsmash.org/
Peace and love,