You know that weight that you’ve deemed your personal “fat weight”? The one that’s the highest acceptable number on the scale before you panic and throw out every carbohydrate in your kitchen (possibly getting perilously close to dumping out all your wine), vowing to stop eating crap, get healthy, and lose this damn weight, starting right freaking now?
Yeah, that weight.
Well, I blew past mine this morning. Now this morning’s breakfast menu is a toss up between egg whites and turkey bacon or what-the-hell-who-cares-I’m-a-big-fat-loser-anyway-gimme-the-damn-cinammon-roll. This may take a moment.
The women in my family started worshiping their scales at very young ages. My mother, bless her, was a young, beautiful, thin woman, who educated her pre-teen daughters about calories, fats, carbs, and above all, the scale, with the thoroughness of a mama-bear instructing her cubs. What it says, what it means, and how to keep those numbers under control. My sister absorbed every lesson like an eager young grasshopper and to this day is a carbon copy of my slender mother at that age. Go, Sissy. (And yes, I love you anyway.)
Unfortunately, I’m built more like my sturdy and athletic dad, who used to say I looked “wholesome.” (Stop the first 10 teenage girls you see on the street and ask them to define “wholesome.” You’ll get 10 variations of “fat”). Sometime during puberty, the scale and I settled into what was to become a lifelong battle of the wills. Specifically, how do I stubbornly eat every crappy, processed thing I love and keep those numbers where they belong? Every morning at 5:00 a.m., the scale and I would get the gloves on and see who won the previous 24-hour round. Had pizza for dinner and didn’t gain any weight? Take that, you pile of junk. Cut out all my carbs and gained 1/2 pound?? I can hear the LED display laughing before I even get out of bed.
Over the years, the scale has attained mythic proportions, determining my self-esteem on any given day on an impenetrable level that no amount of compliments or reassurance from Hubs, friends, or strangers on the street could impact. Under the “fat number,” I looked good. Over the fat number, and I was a hopeless porkchop, never to be attractive again. It didn’t make any difference how I determined what the number was. It was the number, period. I weighed myself every single morning, no matter what. Going on vacation? No problem. I took my scale. My scale became my personal traveling gnome. Where I went, it went. 4 decades later, my scale has seen 5 countries, half the continental United States, cruised to Alaska, and lazed on the lanai in Maui.
“Why do you do this to yourself??” Hubs would ask repeatedly as years went by. “I have to,” I’d insist. “If I don’t weigh myself, how will I know if I’m fat?” “Just go by how your clothes fit,” he’d reply, with condescending male logic. “That only works for date clothes,” I’d roll my eyes. “Yoga pants have about a 5-pound play. In 5 more pounds, I could puff up like a Pillsbury crescent roll before I knew it was happening, and I’d stay that way forever.” After 4 years of this conversation, he gave up, mumbling something about “Next time, I’m marrying the first woman I meet who doesn’t own a damn scale.”
One year, he made the unfortunate choice to hide my scale. That morning I went into a frenzied search that left the house looking like it had been upended by a DEA dog team looking for cocaine. I was two hours late for work, and Hubs and I didn’t speak for a week. He never tried that again.
Not surprisingly, 26,645 weigh-ins (once daily x 43 years) have uncovered a few tricks that help salvage what might otherwise be a bad day. Weigh-in novices, take note:
1. Pee. Twice if you can. Water can add up to 2 pounds on the scale. And people who say “It’s just water weight” are stupid. And probably skinny.
2. Get nekkid. For the love of God, don’t weigh in with your clothes on. When I threatened to strip in my doctor’s waiting room hallway and he determined I was not bluffing, he began letting me use the scale in the nurses’ bathroom. I don’t weigh in my clothes. Ever.
3. Figure out your scale’s sweet spot. There’s a certain angle at which you can lean which will literally “lighten the load.” Experiment. It’s there. 20 degree tilt to the right, and I’m a full pound lighter. There are mornings when this matters.
4. Weigh yourself on the same scale whenever possible. The scales you buy at WalMart or at your local Weight Watcher’s meeting have a lot of play. Your weight can display with a 3-pound variable from scale to scale. This isn’t a big deal if it’s 3 pounds less than you normally weigh, but 3 pounds more can tank a day.
I know what some of you are thinking. “What is wrong with this woman?” “Get her some help. Now.” “I could never be that vain or self-absorbed.” And you’re right. It’s wrong. I should probably seek professional help. But it’s not vanity or self-absorption. I don’t think the world revolves around my weight. I don’t think most people (any people?) even care. But I care.
I can’t control the passage of time. I can’t control the effects of gravity (Really, God??) I can’t control my hormones and my metabolism. But I can control my weight. But not unless I know what it is.
Kenny recently brought me an article “for people like me” (I’m choosing to let that one go) that suggested starting with an every-other-day weigh-in, with the ultimate goal being once a week. Hmmm. I’m considering it. Right after tomorrow’s weigh-in.
Oh vikki how I can relate to this! I too am a serial weigher. I finally moved the scale into my guest bathroom. It was no longer handy after a healthy poop. My chiropractor / trainer said about weighing in everyday; the percentages are against you for anything good coming from weighing yourself daily. 1) you gained weight and now beat yourself over it…(it could be due to sodium!). 2) you stayed the same and now you question all your hard work and are ready to give up due to seeing no change. 3) you lost weight….but realize you have a long ways to go and it’s a commitment of….forever!
I can sympathize, but gave up regular weigh-ins years ago. Too often it started the day off in a really bad way and I would be bitchy the entire day.
Weigh-ins are the best example I can think of for the saying – ignorance is bliss.
I might be in the minority, but I don’t even own a scale!
As someone who weighs herself every day and then goes to get weighed in Jenny Craig once a week, I can tell you those are excellent tips! And the Jenny scale is 3 pounds higher than mine, which I’ve finally stopped trying to convince them. I am laughing so hard because I figured out the sweet spot on my scale, too — it’s all the way at the edge and is probably less because half my body weight is off the scale and I’m practically falling off when I stand there!
I can relate too. I even have a chart online that graphs my weight. As well as a shelf full of diet books. Oh and a cookie jar. That latter object is the problem I think.
OMG, This one is really beyond my comprehension, but not beyond my compassion. We did grow up in a world where weight, number on the scale weight, mattered and we were trained yo watch it carefully. In my case it was a weekly weigh-in done every Sunday morning. Logic told me daily would be useless and demotivating, but weekly seemed wise. Control was for certain the issue, as it is for you. Now though I can tell you that the control in my life is no longer an issue. Weight gain or loss is no longer an issue. Today I live without a scale, without a worry. If my clothes get snug, I fold them up and move them to another spot. I pull out bigger ones and carry on. Why? Because I realize that unless I’m gaining or losing dispoerportionately to my eating and activity levels, it doesn’t matter. What I do control in my life is my mind. I think about what matters, my size isn’t one of those, my relationships and my general mental health are the top of my list. I control those.
I hope you do seek help for this addiction because it can lead to serious eating disorders as you age and healthy eating is vital to good function in our senior years, weight aside.
I threw out that one-eyed beast years ago. We don’t get along well and you know what people say about tossing anything toxic in your life…..and it won’t be the wine.
I can relate! Back when I was single I actually considered packing my scale to go on a girl’s beach trip. I’ve lightened up on myself a little bit these days; as long as I stay within a certain range, I’m okay and if I am heading out of that range I skip the scale and cut back for the day. Thanks for making me feel slightly less OCD-ish :)
I was addicted to the scale for a year. During that year, I lost thirty pounds. I was addicted to seeing the numbers go down every day.
As I’m currently free from acute scale addiction, I am way past my scary weight…sigh.
There is so much in this post that is me. However what I am lacking is the good humor that goes along with it. My sister and I just see-saw around each other. We’ve never both been thin at the same time. My mother eats 900 calories a day and makes fat faces at us when we order dessert.
I haven’t stepped on a scale in 6 months. When I look at it I know it’s laughing.
I always put batteries in my scale that are almost dead. Then it just displays “LO” ALL the time.
Oh Vikki. I prided my weight all through High School. 102. form 71 to 75. Got up to 110 in mid 75. Then in 76 I found kids. Yap have seen skinny sence 81. Yo yo’d those yrs. Then I keep find more pounds. Somewhere along the way I got really mad at my scales. Yelled at them Called them a layer. An Stomped on them springs went everywhere. I got up to 250+ an gave up. :( but a year ago without trying I lost 62 lbs. Just fell off. Well I’m still fat. I weight in every morning. I can where the cloth from high school On one leg.
I get on the scale nearly every day, too. During the period of my life when I didn’t, I gained 150 pounds. It’s best to know where you are.
Back in the day, I tried Jenny Craig (3 times) and the worst, worst, worst part was not the thimbleful of cardboard food. It was the weigh-ins. I would choose my absolutely lightest clothing and seriously consider stripping down to my skivvies. ARGH! Why DO we do this to ourselves?
I have a scale that I will only defer to in the most desperate of times. Right now I should so be using that scale, because I am looking quite moo-like.
I got rid of my scale a year or so ago and never got around to getting a new one. Morning weigh ins could either start my day off great or more than like not so good. Night time weighs could be a great way to end the day or ruin and otherwise good day. I tried doing to once a week weigh in, but just couldn’t do it. The scale was there calling to me everyday. Now I just go by the way clothes fit. I just make sure that several times a week I wear something besides yoga pants.
I’m laughing so hard because I refuse to have a scale in this house, much to my daughter’s irritation. I don’t want to know what I weigh and I don’t care, and I don’t want her obsessing about it. She’s plenty thin, she plays soccer and works out plenty. But for some reason girls at this age care way too much about it. So as long as she’s in my house, no scale. :)
My obsession with weight began when I was 9—I was 5’6″ by the time I was twelve and my mother began to call me a “big” girl when we went clothes shopping. It was so humiliating!!! I was rather slender but my mother is really petite (has a size 5 shoe). When I was growing up she barely tipped the scale at 110 lbs while I had 5′ 7 and 5’8″ weighed a “heftily” 125-130. But to my mother, I was “big”. Sadly, my mother didn’t think it was a problem when I got my weight down to 109lbs but her friend did and spoke to my mom who reluctantly told me I was getting too thin. Since then it’s been up and down. I don’t obsess in quite the same way and my “fat” weight is several pounds higher than my weight when I was in my 20’s but I work on my perspective daily. It’s challenging and a true waste of time but it is hard to transcend when the messages begin so early.
I weigh myself daily also. I didn’t always, but I’m trying to learn how to judge food’s effect on me. A piece of pizza adds a couple pounds of fluff around my middle. Probably a food allergy, but I’m not interested in catering to it. I just eat soup and unprocessed foods for a couple days.
I hate eating cardboard foods. I’m going to be 50 in 5 months. I’m tired of eating foods I don’t like to reach a weight I still haven’t reached. So, I’m learning to cook and season healthy foods that I really do like and make them delicious. I’m starting a fun dancing workout so I feel better -strengthening my core and getting rid of back pain and knee weakness. I took pictures and measurements last week. It was sobering.
I can eat a piece of pie, but I will earn it – not try to burn it off later. I want to enjoy food -no veggie shakes for me – and be able to move well. Not funny, I know but this is the first time I’ve felt excited about taking care of myself.
The true test of crazy is, do you check it, or carry-on the plane?
I go through spells when I weigh myself every day. Right now, I’m in a “screw the scale forever” mood and haven’t weighed myself in a few weeks. I’m hoping the next time I break it out I will be pleasantly surprised, but based on the snugness of my jeans, that is doubtful!
Oh my gosh! I have the same weigh-in tricks! Pee, strip, and stand in the sweet spot. If I still don’t like it, I hold something heavy and weigh myself – occasionally I see a lower number (maybe a WHOLE .2 or even a .6 loss…). That’s when I step off the scale and say, “you’ve lost it.” Fortunately the scale doesn’t have that big of a hold o. Me, but I do know all the tricks for a DietBet weigh-in or out.
OMG you are so right!! I appreciate your humor. We are more than the number on our scale!?!
I personally dislike scales. We have one in our house but I use it maybe four times a year. Instead I torture myself through clothing. If something fits, is too tight, too loose; that is how I determine my weight. I laughed when I read about getting weighed at the doctors office. I love when when it is cold out and they weigh you with chunky boots and sweaters! I do not understand why they do not at least let you take your shoes off. Maybe I will take a page from your book and threaten to take it all off!
Vikki, thanks for following me on Twitter today. Following you back, and that led to your website (which is very cool, and funny).
Could be the only guy chiming in here. Oh well. Hope that’s ok. :)
What if we thought of weight as a health metric and not a beauty or self-worth metric?
Knowing a decent range, for example 152-157 (mine) and we kept track of it for health reasons – cholesterol, blood pressure, diabetes, heart disease, and on and on?
It is so worth it to pay the price for great health, otherwise we pay the price for poor health.
PS. Pushing 55 and completely understand every temptation and excuse. Wishing everyone nothing but goodness in their lives. Peace.
I just need to know why the damn scale at the doctor’s office always makes me fatter than the one at home. Always. It’s a conspiracy, I tell you, and I know it doesn’t have to do with clothes, because they take off about 5 pounds for that. I’ve officially reached my scary weight and yeah, okay, so what if I just polished off a most excellent chocolate bar moments ago. Tomorrow’s another day to drink less water, get nekkid and try again.
The battery died on my scale and I haven’t replaced it. That says it all.
Vikki,
You need a new mirror! I have seen you and you a TINY! Petite and slender, and most people (including fat me) would love to be as thin as you are.
Eat the cinnamon bun and if and when you do, please promise me you will savor every mouthful!!
Oh Vikki this was the right post today. Last night had pasta and bread – which I haven’t had in months – wine and to top it all off, a chocolate chip cookie. I haven’t gotten on my scale in ages because I’m afraid of what it will say, vowing to only get on it once I can “feel” like I’ve lost some weight. And today, I just feel like one big FRUMP.
Really funny! Today is my weigh in at Jenny Craig…I go every Thursday…so on this day I wear the lightest clothes I own (and get away with at work) and always, always pee!! Ahhh, the tricks we play! Enjoyed the post, Vikki!
I get this: “But I can control my weight. But not unless I know what it is” and thank you for explaining the irrational in completely sensible terms. Been there, right down to trying to establish how much those clothes actually do weigh.
So funny and all so true Vikki. But, for years now, I rarely weight myself. I think you can tell more how you’re doing by how your clothes are fitting.
Vicki we are living parallel lives. But don’t forget to also hold your breath before you step on the scale! That always works for me!
I’ve definitely been there! I love the part of threatening to get naked in the dr’s office! That is classic. I have not gone that far before, but it is painful to get weight post-meal with clothing. They should let you bring in your naked weight on a piece of paper. Maybe instagram your scale reading?
The sweet spot. OMG, yes. I also have to calibrate the dial a bit. I’m not obsessed w/ checking though. I just can’t face the terrible terrible news each day.
The only time I get on the scales is when I need to weigh Gertie, our tortoise! Me first alone, then holding her! Happens like 5 times a year!
I don’t worry about it. Every single scale we’ve ever bought in our 23 year marriage has been defective. I know it more importantly hubby knows it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!