I Don’t Own a Scale
I don’t think I’ve ever told you guys this but I do not own a scale. Whether that’s because my mother is honestly obese or because my therapist told my mother to get rid of it when they first discovered my eating issues, I’ve not a clue. All I know is I don’t get to stop on the scale every morning. A lot of people talk about how hard it is to step on the scale and have to go through the day with that number in your head. But for those of you who know what it’s like to not know that number, to be questioning if you went up or down, it’s hell. I weigh myself a few times a week when I go to my aunts. I sneak into her oversized bathroom and step onto her super accurate scale. It reads me the number and I let out a deep breath. I’ve gone down. Being in suspense of what my own body weight is, it really pushes on my anxiety. It drives me mad. What if I haven’t lost anything or gained? I won’t know if I’m supposed to work harder. or What if I’ve lost a lot of weight and I have something to be proud of! or what if my weight gain or lose is so drastic that someone notices and I won’t even know the number on the scale? This is the story in my brain. I speak that I want to get better but I have a nonstop battle in my head about the number on the scale. It’s funny because I’m not small, I’m not even at an average weight. I’m large. I am fat. If my eating issues are as bad as people say, why am I not smaller yet?
