I have a secret.
Something I’ve struggled with for years.
I realize by sharing this I might possibly be opening myself up to some harsh comments and criticisms.
I’m okay with that.
That’s a lie. I’m not really okay with that. Just keepin’ it real. ::snort:: I wear my heart on my sleeve.
BUT, if there is just one person who reads this, shakes her head yes because she can relate, is motivated to take action and stop the madness, then any criticism I might receive will sting less.
I weigh myself.
Now, I realize a lot means different things to different people. It might look different for you than it does for me.
So, allow me to elaborate by giving you an example of what a typical day might look like for me.
As soon as I wake up in the morning, I go to the bathroom and immediately weigh myself. Depending on what numbers show up on the scales, it could quite possibly dictate what kind of day I’m going to have.
If I go on a long run or have a hard work out in the morning, I might weigh myself afterwards. Just to see if I’ve lost any ounces since the early morning.
In the late afternoon, sometime between snack and dinner, I’ll weigh myself again. Just to see.
If the scale dips, I do a little happy dance. If it doesn’t, I try to pretend it doesn’t bother me.
After I’ve brushed my teeth and done my nightly routine, I weigh myself before going to bed. Just to see.
I wake up during the night to go to the bathroom and I’ll weigh myself again. Just to see if I’ve lost anything since I went to bed.
There are times I view the scales as a reward.
If I’ve had several great days in a row, I step on the scale and the numbers go down. I pat myself on the back and say, “See what hard work does?!”
That also backfires on me, too – Sometimes I step on the scale after having several great days in a row and the scale laughs at me by going up. And I feel eaten up inside. Literally. Like all my hard work was a huge waste.
There are times I use the scale as punishment.
If I’ve been bad with my eating and I know deep down I haven’t been putting forth much effort, I’ll step on the scale, knowing the numbers will be higher, and then, berate myself about how much of a failure I am. “See what happens when you lose control?!”
Some days I weigh myself up to eight times. In one day.
It’s crazy that such a small piece of electronics has such an immense amount of power over the happiness and joy of my life.
This is not easy for me to admit.
This week I decided enough is enough. It’s time to say goodbye. For now.
I handed the scales to one of my older sons, told him to put it in the attic and not tell me where it is.
I’d love to say I felt an immediate sense of relief.
I found myself walking into the bathroom to weigh myself three times after that.
I know intellectually that my worth and true beauty cannot be measured on scales.
I’m going to wait until my heart knows that before I step on the scales again.
Honestly, I’m scared, but I’m not going to let fear keep me in chains.