I have a confession – I weigh myself. I step on the scale every single day. Sometimes, twice a day. It’s a habit, or maybe an obsession, and definitely a ritual. I strip down before a shower, shedding every extra inch of unnecessary weight. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and step up onto the scale. It’s a small, square box with a digital window at the top, and it makes a squealing sound when I step on it – a sound which I both love and hate. It satisfies an ingrained need to check myself, but I cringe when I hear it. Maybe it squeals because it’s a cheap scale, a Target special, or maybe because I’ve stepped on it a few too many times, but it reminds me that I am not light and delicate. I am heavy and weighted. That squeal is the sound of my body pressing down, the digital numbers flickering up, up, up, before settling on a final amount.
That number is almost always the same, give or take about five pounds (mostly give). It’s gone down, before, and I felt proud, accomplished, acceptable. Compliments and accolades accompany that number going down. It’s also gone back up, as pounds are wont to do, and I felt ashamed, defeated, fat. Rude looks accompany that number going up – or worse, no looks at all.
So, I weigh myself, and judge my worth by the number on the scale, but that number actually represents a lot more than I give it credit for. It represents my natural curves, my full breasts and my round hips – my femininity. It represents my struggle with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome), a condition that wreaks all sorts of havoc on the body, including high levels of androgens, infertility, painful cysts, insulin resistance, anxiety, depression, and weight gain. That number on the scale is partially caused by the PCOS, but it is also in spite of it. That number represents strong arms that lift heavy weights at the gym and accomplish more push-ups every week, and it represents strong, solid legs that run and bike and swim, and yes, also rub together and have stretch marks.
I’m currently working through a heavy-lifting fitness program, which includes an amazing online community comprised of every shape and size woman you can imagine. Everyone is supportive and everyone is supported equally. Some people are there to lose weight and gain muscle. Some people are there to gain weight and gain muscle. Some people are there to feel better about themselves and some people are there to work their troubles out in the weight room. My weight has actually gone up since starting it, but that’s ok. The truth is that I’m not actually supposed to be weighing myself at all, but the habit has been hard to break. The focus is on strength and empowerment. I’ve gone from dreading the gym and feeling embarrassed in the weight room, to craving a lifting session and proudly watching myself in the mirror as I push those weights into the air, sweating and grunting. I’ve gone from worrying about how much I weigh to wondering how heavy I can lift.
My doctor will still tell you that I weigh too much, that I’m obese and I need to lose pounds, but anyone who knows me knows how much better and stronger and more self-confident I feel. So, yes, I still step onto the scale, and yes I sometimes still get mad at myself when the number creeps up and wonder why it doesn’t go down. After all, every piece of media I’ve seen suggests that if you make healthy eating choices and work out, you will weigh less and therefore be “better,” but I’ve got another confession to make – though I weigh myself every single day, the number is becoming less and less important to me. It’s losing its value and the effect it has on my own self-worth. Maybe, soon, I’ll stop thinking about it altogether, and throw the scale away.
