Weigh ins. Ugh. Saturday mornings used to be a very stressful time for me. When I was a dieter, I used to wake up at 6:30 in the morning so that I could get to the first meeting that opened at Weight Watchers. At 7:15, I stood on line, anxiously waiting for my fate to be determined.

Regardless of what accomplishments I achieved and what personal triumphs I realized during the previous seven days, nothing mattered more than what the scale was about to tell me. Each week I stood on the scale, held my breath, closed my eyes and prayed, as I pinned all my hopes on that miserable bit of scrap metal. All my goals and dreams were put on hold for so long, waiting for that scale to register just the perfect number for me.

Depending upon what the scale said that day, I had to struggle with myself not to let it bother me. If it said that I had lost weight, then I had to struggle to keep it together and to not let it go to my head, eventually falling headfirst into a binge, If the scale registered a weight gain, then I had to struggle to keep up my spirits or I’d find myself with my head stuck in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Mint Oreo Cookie ice cream. If it showed that I maintained my weight, then I had to struggle to find more motivation to continue to play the same struggle game the next week. Girl, I’m so tired of struggling, aren’t you?

I remember when I was 11 years old I was put on my first diet by my Pediatrician, Dr. Zucker. My dad and step mother, Rosie were put in charge of making sure that I didn’t cheat on the diet. All the things they tried, disconnected me from myself more. By hiding food and accusing me of eating it, they taught me that I couldn’t trust myself, by making me cut the fat off of my steak, it made it seem so tempting and delicious that I wanted it more than anything. All their well meaning and genuine efforts at policing me led me to believe that I was a human garbage pail and that I had no control around food. They didn’t know what they were doing. They were only doing what they knew might help. Can you remember some experiences like that from when you were younger?

I especially remember the feeling of getting on the scale and dad looking at the numbers shaking his head. I hated that scale but somehow over the years, I grew to hate myself, my body and I never even realized that what I really hated was the scale. I only wished that I could be perfect and it was the scale that kept telling me I couldn’t. When did I give my power away? Have you done the same?

Have you been waiting for perfect to come along? Are you tired of letting the scale hold domination over you? Are you ready to love yourself now? You can. All you have to do is decide that you are worth it. I think you are. What do you think? Share your thoughts and let me know what you think about tossing your scale today! You can also join my free Juicy Woman Yahoo group and continue this discussion in an environment filled with other wonderful, supportive women also on the road to yummying up their lives more now!

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This