On October 30th, I hid our scale and tucked away our measuring tape. I didn’t realize until I removed those things from view just how much they had stolen my focus. I had weighed myself almost daily for 15 years. Yikes. I decided to take photos of myself in leggings and a sports bra. Thought it would be an easier way for my friend to tell if the workouts she chose for me were actually working. It was liberating to not pull that scale out from underneath the little piece of bathroom furniture that holds more unused junk than I care to admit. I thought pictures on the 30th would be better for me. This person who is attempting to recover from lifelong body-shaming. And I didn’t ‘cheat’ on my experiment. For three and a half weeks. Then, I was forced to get that scale back out. We are switching from conventional insurance to a Christian Medical Costs Sharing group. And they needed my weight. No big deal. I was going to weigh in and put that scale right back into the dark of the closet. I was excited, as I reached past Dave’s shoes. I was pretty sure I had lost some weight. I gingerly stepped on and cursed under my breath. I had gained 10 pounds. In three weeks. My day was done. I honestly couldn’t stop thinking about it. Woke up the next morning thinking about it. I’ve gained almost 40 pounds since weaning Bess. I’ve gained back the weight of a preschooler. This morning, I wanted to weigh again. Just to see. But I didn’t. Because I cannot go back to that habit. Addiction? I took the photos. Same clothes. Same poses. I wasn’t any bigger looking, so I guess the weight could be muscle. Who knows. I do know this is my last post about my body weight issues. Just because I’m going on three decades of dealing with it doesn’t mean you should be subjected to this tale of woe. I’m starting to feel half my age and a quarter confident. Back to writing about important things, like Graham using his allowance to buy a Star Wars pillow from Aldi. You know, the life-changing stuff.
Is She Seriously Talking About Body Image Again?