Isn’t it amazing what a number on the scale can do to the start of the day? For over a year I refused to stand on the scale, but I started this addictive ritual once again this past month. Now I ask- wasn’t it enough to have clothes fitting that used to not fit; to have them loose and comfortable where once they were binding like debt! To have people stop me at the grocery store and tell me I look like a rail (yes, I kid you not, she said a rail!). NO, that just wasn’t enough—the lure of those magic numbers on the scale seemed to beckon with greater force than chocolate during a PMS storm! And like many a PMS storm I succumbed to the lure of the scale—only to be thrown into a fit of misery because the numbers, those magic numbers weren’t as low as I had anticipated. All of a sudden the pleasure of feeling lean and fit was sacrificed to the scale gods and their numbers! What is SO important about quantifying everything? Wasn’t it Einstein that said ‘not everything that counts can be counted and not everything that can be counted counts?’ If he DIDN”T say it he should have!
Anyways, back to my scale woes. One year I taped ‘130’ over the digital weight display. I had read somewhere that if I saw that number every morning when I weighed then my mind would turn my body into that weight. I think it was working until my 6’4’ hulk of a fireman son was visiting and removed it—seems he didn’t want to weigh 130 pounds. Go figure! That was two years ago Christmas and I have no idea why I never replaced the magic number back on my scale. Maybe that’s why it didn’t work! After all these decades of cyclic and frenzied dieting and having my moods conversely dictated by the scale—if the numbers are up, my mood is down; if the numbers are down my mood is up!—you’d think that I could get over it! But NO! Here I am in my 50’s still being ruled by the numbers on a scale. Not only am I a dress size, I seem to be a number on the scale too!
-R
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