Tuesday, August 5, 2014

August Write My Face Off: Why I sent our bathroom scale to the landfill.

Growing up we had this old scale. I can see it. It was obviously made in the 1970s. How else can you explain the shiny gold of its color? My mom kept in one of two pantry cabinets in the kitchen. As a kid, I would rarely weigh just myself, usually I used the scale for other things. Didn't everyone need to know the weight of their 20lb cat?

My grandmother had a scale too. Forever it sat in the kitchen (what was it with these woman and scales in the KITCHEN???). Her's was a monster, old school, analog, heavier than a toddler. I used to love to sit and play with it and zero it out.



I don't know what ever happened to those scales, but I as sure they eventually made it to the same landfill that mine is currently sitting at--at least my grandmother's did. Who knows where my mom's scale is... she was a slight hoarder after all. I'll probably find it years from now, when we are doing yet another pass of cleaning things out. Maybe it'll be the one relic remaining after a nuclear attack.

I've never owned by own scale. I have never bought this torture device. When I was single, I relied on doctor's offices and fitness center scales, ones that I could blame the accuracy on being on different floors and problems with elevation. Doesn't everyone know you weigh less on the second floor than on the first floor????

My husband had one though. I suffer from being overweight and the man I married suffers from being underweight. What can I say, I like em' scrawny. Anyways, when we got together, his bathroom scale haunted me. It was a digital scaled, with no way of zero-ing it out. We kept this damn thing, the ban of my existence for 5 years. After 3 years of marriage, I sent it packing.

And I've been happier ever since.

I don't wake up, pee, and weigh myself. I was recording that weight on the bathroom mirror as a reminder of my failure. Any increase in weight, even by a tenth of a pound would make me freak out and my day would start off poorly. And then it became inconsistent. I could weigh myself 3 times and get 3 different numbers all within 100 pounds of my actual weight.

The day that it told me I weighed 183lbs, 146lbs, and 242lbs is the day that I sent the damn thing to the landfill.

Since then, waking up has been less stressful, there isn't expo markers on the mirror, and I'm not being judged by a number.

Sure, yes, I know that I am overweight, probably even obese. But do I need to rely on a number to determine my health? I have low blood pressure, my cholesterol is fine, and my blood sugar remains the good range. I'm not letting myself be defined by a 3 digit number any longer.

I'm working to overcome a lot of the negative body issues that I have. And getting rid of the scale was a huge leap in the right direction.

I will note that my husband has been discussing with me getting a new scale. We haven't yet, and I don't think I want to. We will see. 

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