The @#$%&* scale
As a fat girl, I know that moving the scale is death. I know it. Once moved, the thing will never read precisely the same again. It will be up or down, and though I try to readjust it, it just won't be right.
My husband, sweet man who holds steady at 172, 172, 172, 172, no matter what, moved our scale. He did it in an effort to determine whether little Bill was as fat as the vet said. Mike has his own scale thing going on: he denies that the vet's monstrous digital appliance is as accurate as our retro chrome beauty when it comes to the fat little dog.
He kicked the scale around the uneven tiled floor in my sitting room a couple of days in a row, desperately trying to make Billy weigh less than 14 pounds. Knowing that an evil report would be the likely result of this moving of the scale, I skipped weighing a few days. And here's the stunning, terrifying thing about that: I gained 6 pounds.
Did I really gain 6 pounds or has he messed up the scale? Really? Really, I've been working this estate sale and skipping the gym. I've been burning the candle at both ends, feel tired all the time, not eating clean. I've probably really gained a few pounds. Six or not, I'd go with the gain being a reality and that speaks to the power of this disease for me.
For whatever reason ~ a lifetime struggle with weight, more fat cells than the average bear, whatever ~ I have a stunning capacity to gain weight quickly. It is one of the things I'm best at. If it were a competition, I'd win, but the truth is I lose with every increment of increase on the @#$%#$^ scale.
I hate scales. Hate them. But I have to have one for accountability. Skipping a day of weighing is a step toward a complete relapse. It's how I gained 80 pounds in less than a year in 1987. It's how I kept a comfortable denial going about the weight I gained when Mike was sick. I have to have daily accountability if I'm going to hold steady. Have to. So I'm back to it, weighing every morning, and I've hidden the scale from the 172 pound man and his fat little dog.
My husband, sweet man who holds steady at 172, 172, 172, 172, no matter what, moved our scale. He did it in an effort to determine whether little Bill was as fat as the vet said. Mike has his own scale thing going on: he denies that the vet's monstrous digital appliance is as accurate as our retro chrome beauty when it comes to the fat little dog.
He kicked the scale around the uneven tiled floor in my sitting room a couple of days in a row, desperately trying to make Billy weigh less than 14 pounds. Knowing that an evil report would be the likely result of this moving of the scale, I skipped weighing a few days. And here's the stunning, terrifying thing about that: I gained 6 pounds.
Did I really gain 6 pounds or has he messed up the scale? Really? Really, I've been working this estate sale and skipping the gym. I've been burning the candle at both ends, feel tired all the time, not eating clean. I've probably really gained a few pounds. Six or not, I'd go with the gain being a reality and that speaks to the power of this disease for me.
For whatever reason ~ a lifetime struggle with weight, more fat cells than the average bear, whatever ~ I have a stunning capacity to gain weight quickly. It is one of the things I'm best at. If it were a competition, I'd win, but the truth is I lose with every increment of increase on the @#$%#$^ scale.
I hate scales. Hate them. But I have to have one for accountability. Skipping a day of weighing is a step toward a complete relapse. It's how I gained 80 pounds in less than a year in 1987. It's how I kept a comfortable denial going about the weight I gained when Mike was sick. I have to have daily accountability if I'm going to hold steady. Have to. So I'm back to it, weighing every morning, and I've hidden the scale from the 172 pound man and his fat little dog.
Labels: addiction, eating disorders, weight loss
posted by BigAssBelle at 5:47 AM
6 Comments:
I needed to read this today.
I've been skipping my daily scale-hops too, and really, it just isn't a good idea. I mean, it's not like the weight-gain ceases to exist just because I don't step on the scale (and i also once was able to "hide" a 65-lb-in-one-year weight gain simply by avoiding the scale).
Maybe Little Bill & Mike can get their own scale & you can erect a barbed wire fence around yours. Kind of "I won't pick at the food on your plate, you won't touch my scale."
Good luck -- hilarious writing here!
I like the idea of your dh and dog getting their own scale! And maybe put in another bathroom! I'm hating my digital one now as it will read up and down 2 lbs in the space of 5 mintues...arrrghhh. So I never know which is the acurate number.
i love it...slim jim and his fat little dog...
they NEED to stay away from your scale...you know how it is when someone tries to take a piece of your weighed and measured protein --- stick em with a fork!
xoxo
michele
I always regulate my scale with a new bag of flour.
I think you seriously need some new scales! They should say the same thing. But that flour idea above is a good idea.
I don't have any scales, I squashed the last ones i bought lol
Thats not funny, i'm just remembering the incident lol
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