I have a confession to make. No, it’s not my unwavering love of all things red and winey. And it’s not my 20-year, auto-renewed subscription to Star magazine. Or even that when I get stressed, Lucky Charms is my go-to comfort food. For all three meals. So here it is: I am a weigh-in addict. I cannot start my day until I weigh myself. Seriously. Can’t even start the coffee. Skipped weigh-ins cause temporary confusion about how I feel about myself, because I don’t know if I’m fat. I know, “fat” is subjective. One woman’s “chubby” is another woman’s dream weight. But before you decide that I’m the shallowest woman ever, my informal surveys of women I know indicate that I am not alone. Bless you, ladies.
It seems that many of us have a weight that we’ve deemed to be our personal, and extremely private, “fat weight.” The one we admit to no one, including our best friends. It’s powerful enough to make or break our self-esteem. Under that number, and we’re still kind of hot. Over that number, and shit just got real. Instant panic ensues, resulting in a wide variety of creative, emotional, and sometimes hilarious responses.
I immediately start ransacking all my kitchen cabinets and fridge contents, tossing out every carbohydrate I spot (briefly considering doing the same with the wine, but I’m depressed, not insane). The wine stays, but I stock the kitchen with kale and vow to stop using my treadmill as a lingerie drying rack., and fire it up on the spot, determined to actually get on the stupid thing to lose this freakin’ weight. Preferably today. My usual breakfast of bacon, eggs, and a frosted cinnamon roll now becomes a toss-up between the self-congratulatory egg whites and turkey bacon, or what-the-hell-who-cares-I’m-a-big-fat-loser-anyway-gimme-the-damn-roll. It could go either way.
Sometime during puberty, the scale and I settled into what would become a lifelong battle of wills. Specifically, how do I persist in eating every crappy, non-nutritional, processed food product I love and keep those numbers where they belong? Every morning at 5 a.m., the scale and I get the gloves on and see who won the previous 24-hour round. Had pizza for dinner and didn’t gain an ounce? Take that, you piece of junk. Cut out all my carbs and gained 1/2 pound?? Excuse me while I throw your scrap metal ass out the window, and you can spend the rest of the day in the begonias. Morning score: Scale, one; me, zip.
Over the years, my scale has attained mythic proportions, determining my self-esteem for each day on an impenetrable level that no amount of compliments or reassurance from Hubs, friends, or strangers on the street can impact. If I weigh less than The Number, I look pretty good. If I weigh more than The Number, I’m a hopeless porkchop, never to be attractive again. I weigh myself every single morning, no matter what. Going on vacation? I simply take my scale with me. Attending a conference? Slide it into my carry-on. My scale has become a traveling gnome. After four decades, it’s seen three countries, flown from the West Coast to the East Coast (and back again), cruised to Alaska, and lazed on the lanai in Maui.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” Hubs repeatedly asks. “I have to,” I tell him, “If I don’t weigh myself, how will I know if I’m fat?” “Just go by how your clothes fit,” he says, with slightly condescending male logic. “That only works for date clothes,” I explain, rolling my eyes, “Yoga pants are stretchy. That’s why we love them. But you wouldn’t feel anything under five pounds. I’m 5’2”. Five pounds would puff me up like a Ballpark frank on the grill. And since menopause pretty much obliterated my metabolism, I can’t lose weight on more than 200 calories a day, so I’d stay that way forever.” He eventually admitted defeat, mumbling “Next time, I’m marrying the first woman I meet who doesn’t own a damn scale.”
Not surprisingly, with 16, 425 weigh-ins behind me at last count, I’ve uncovered a few tricks to help salvage what might otherwise be a bad day. Weigh-in novices, take note:
- Pee. Twice if you can. Water can add up to two pounds on the scale. And people who say, “It’s just water weight” are idiots. And probably skinny.
- Get nekkid. Never weigh in with your clothes on. When I threatened to strip in the doctor’s waiting room hallway and the doc determined that I was not bluffing, she began letting me use the scale in the nurse’s bathroom.
- Find your scale’s sweet spot. There’s a certain angle at which you can lean that will literally “lighten the load.” Experiment. It’s there. 20 degree tilt to the right, and I’m up to two pounds lighter. There are mornings when this matters.
- 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 show a three-pound variable from scale to scale. This isn’t a big deal if it’s three pounds less than you normally weigh, but three pounds more can tank a day.
I know what many of you are thinking. “What is wrong with this woman?? I could never be that vain or that superficial. Get her some help. Now.” You’re right. I should probably seek professional help. But it’s truly not about vanity or self-absorption. I don’t think the world revolves my weight or that anyone else gives a rat’s behind. But I do.
We can’t control getting older. We can’t control the effects of gravity (Really, God??) We can’t control our hormones or our post-menopausal metabolism. I can control my weight. But not unless I know what it is.
Hubs recently brought me an article that offered a potential solution to my fixation. It suggests starting with an every-other-day weigh-in, tapering off by one per week, with the ultimate goal being no more than once a week. Behavioral modification for scale junkies. Who would’ve thought? And after one month, I think I get a pin.
I had a college roommate who was just like you in her love/hate relationship with her scale. She did not let anyone else use it, ever!
Haralee, oh my, yes, you can’t share a scale! What if the other person messes with your sweet spot or somehow confuses it and it goes up on its own?? :)
My Hubs actually gave me a scale for my birthday when we were first dating (and I married him anyway). I was a size 4 so didn’t perceive any judgment from him (or else I would have kicked his ass to the curb). His rationale was that he didn’t have one and he figured we’d eventually be living together, therefore…male logic. P.S. One other tip: don’t weigh yourself right out of the shower when your hair is wet; depending on its length, it could add a half-pound or so. :-) A fun post as always, Vikki!
Roxanne! A scale while you were dating?? That’s hilarious! And you’re right, water can be heavy! :)
Why do we women love to torture ourselves so? When I finally tossed the scale I entered the “male logic” that if my clothes were tight, it was time to let up on the food. Now I weigh myself once or twice a month at the gym and give myself a 5 pound variation. If I’m at or over the limit it’s time to give up those snacks–or glasses of wine–for a few days. Tossing the scale was a great act of emancipation.
Nora, I’ve thought about it so many times, and I’ve even tried it once. But then I went dumpster diving in our garage to get it back at 2 a.m. God, I’m pathetic… :)
Yup. Been there done (some of) that. I will confess that my ideal weight has changed over the years. First it was 102, then 107, and now it’s supposed to be 111 — because it just looks so cool. (I’m under 5 feet tall, BTW.) But I hit 113 the other day, and that’s an unlucky number with the 13 in it, so it’s OK that I made Italian food on Saturday, right?
Absolutely, Karen! Nothing more comforting that a big bowl of pasta when you’re feeling the need to “improve yourself.” I’ll bring the wine! :)
Ok this is my new favorite article of yours ever. I am scared to death of my scale. I stay away from it like it has the plague. God forbid I get on it and it tells me I’m fat. Very fat. I’ll be depressed for weeks. And then I’ll have to do something about it. Pathetic!!!
Thanks, Ronna! And you crack me up. I have this horrible dream where my scale actually says “Yep, you’re still fat” OUT LOUD. You know someday they’ll make an interactive scale. Please not in my lifetime! :)
I have never owned a scale! But I confess, back home when I was a teenager/young adult, I used to hop on the scale almost daily. So getting married broke my habit :-)
Lynne, I’m impressed! Never?? Sometimes I wonder how much more I could have accomplished if I added up all the time I spent weighing myself and did something else with that time. What the hell, too late now! :)
I broke up with my scale. It was a toxic relationship. Haha.
Michelle, I agree! I’ve yet to meet a woman that says, “Gee, I just love getting up in the morning and weighing in” (excluding Marie Osmond, who seems to think it’s the best thing EVER). Scales are toxic little buggers! :)
I know at least one guy (me) who does the every morning, nekkid, weigh in. I’ve got a drop dead, gotta do something starting now weight and everything. Fortunately for me, Axiesmom is more obsessive than I am so every time hers goes up a little we both eat light for a day or two. We each even have our own scale since she doesn’t like mine even though it weighs the same as the one at the doctor’s office. Anyway, Vikki, you made me laugh again as you held up a mirror to my life. Thanks
Bob, I love that you each have your own scale because she doesn’t like yours! And you’re welcome! :)
LOL! I have used #3 on my own scale many times. But I did not know about #1. I will be using that little trick forthwith!
Anything I can do to help a woman out, Vernette! I’ll try anything, and if it works, I’ll pass it along! :)
All Hail To The Scale! Oy, what an abusive relationship we’re all in, eh? Loved this! You have the uncanny ability to take our exact truth and make us see the bizarre humor in it. Personally I’ve stopped trying to lose weight–instead I’m now trying to gain height. I stand up against the same wall and take a pencil to the top of my head every morning and then use a tape measure. Sometimes I wear my hair in a topknot and that adds two inches — on those days my weight is excellent for my new height. Problem solved! Tweeting this now.
Thanks, Stephanie! I hear you on the height thing. I’m 5’2″, and I’ve got Chihuahua hair length. I stand as tall as I can, but five pounds takes me up a full size, so now I’m fat and nothing in my closet fits. It’s hard being a Hobbitt! :)
I just started torturing myself like this. I was always the hated size 2. When I was 51 I quit smoking, started menopause and had emergency gall bladder surgery all in the same week. The result was 35 pounds that I swore for a year was swelling from the surgery. I’d actually like to keep 20 of those pounds, I never liked looking anorexic but damn the 15 pounds comes and goes like a yoyo.
I bought my first scale and I’ve become obsessed. I am keeping our meetings to once a week after reading this:)
Oh, Doreen, what an awful week you had! And this is your first scale? Treat it like a new puppy and set good habits NOW. Then you won’t end up like me, addicted to a number that gets harder to maintain every year. Isn’t getting old fun? :)
I just broke up with mine again. I am never going back. I have too much to do and focusing on my weight just gets in the way.
You’re absolutely right, Stephanie! I’m getting there. It’s amazing how much time and mental energy it takes to be so hypervigilante. Especially when the only person who cares is the person who’s on the scale. :)
All true! I’ve been known to re-weight three or four times to make sure that sweet spot is doing its job. :D
Lisa, me too! If I don’t like what I see, I do a few household chores before I eat, then go weigh in again. WTH, sometimes it actually helps. And yes, that’s just sad… :)
I was always underweight growing up and even after two kids my weight was fine. Then menopause had to screw up everything. I weigh more now than any time in my life but, I’m not going to fight it. Besides, I discovered if you put the scale on the bath mat it shaves off 5lb.!
b
Oooh, now why didn’t I think of that?? Tomorrow it’s on the rug! Thanks, Barbara, you really know how to pick up my day! :)
As usual, your posts have me laughing out loud! Which is – causing more laugh lines! As for scales, I never get on one. I know when my pants are tight….they are my scale of choice. My husband, on the other hand, weighs himself every day. Too much torture for me!
Thank you, Ellen! I love that your husband weighs in every day and you go by how your clothes fit. You rebels, you! :)
I’ve found it’s much easier to adjust your “fat” weight. LOL.
You’re absolutely right, Liv! Maybe it will be my 60th birthday present to me! :)
Well this is just going to piss everyone off. I too weigh most every day, naked, first thing in the morning, BUT my obsession is trying to gain weight or at least not to lose more. If it goes below 100, it comes right out of my face and boobs. Having lost 2″ of my normal 5’4″ (who said Pilates makes you taller?), I refuse to ever have my height measured again. I shall remain 5’2″, but that’s as low as I’ll go, gravity or no gravity. Meanwhile the loss of 2″ can be found in the expansion of my rib cage and the ever increasing size of my feet. Wasn’t it Liz Taylor who said, “After 50 you have to choose between your face and your body.” We just can’t win the weight game!
I’m with you, Patricia! Just when I thought I was getting cuter because I was finally at a weight I liked, my butt dropped another inch. Sigh. Further proof that God has a wicked sense of humor! :)
Guys do this too; at least I do.
Paul, of course you do! And that’s why you’re still a lean, mean, fighting machine! :)
Good grief – I don’t know whether to be relieved that it’s not just me, or sad for all of us. Twenty years ago the low-carb thing melted the pounds off. Now, it’s a daily roller coaster – up 2, down 3, up 1.5, with no particular regard to carbs or calories consumed. I’ve got to get rid of the scale because this obsession isn’t helping me lose the 15 pounds. But maybe I’ll take Barbara’s advice about putting the scale on a rug. LOL!
Lee, that’s what has been happening to me! It seems to be unrelated to what I’m eating, which is weird. But I have my scale OUTSIDE of my bathroom now, on a bear rug. I figure that’ll be good for at least two pounds less! :)
It sounds pathetic to be so addicted to the scale (Hi, from one scale addict to another!) – but the truth of the matter is that the evil contraption keeps me fairly honest. Once I read an article about tossing the scale and basing your weight on whether or not your clothes fit – so I tossed the scale and promptly gained a ton of weight. Turns out when you just keep buying larger sizes that method does not work!
Gigi, I hear you! People always tell me they just go by how their clothes fit. My yoga pants will fit me whether I wear a 6 or a 12. Spandex is a wonderful thing, but it doesn’t help if you need to know if you’re gaining weight. And then there’s menopause… :)
Oh my gosh! I think we are sisters separated at birth. I weigh every morning right after peeing and before brushing my teeth, and I wouldn’t dream of weighing with clothes on. This morning I was .1 pound over my magic number. No amount of leaning (or moving the scale to another “better” spot on the floor) would bring it down. Thanks for sharing your blog on GRAND Social; that’s how I found you. I will definitely be back. And I’m sharing this post on Facebook, so I do believe you promised to love me (even if I am “fat”)!
Christie, you’re hilarious! .1 pound of your magic number, and you tried to lean it out? You’re right. We were separated at birth, and I kinda love you! :)
I’m admitting right now that I’m a scale junky too. Every morning, same routine – out of bed, pee (once), turn the coffee pot on, open the blinds, weigh. And at only 4’11”, I think even 1/2 pound shows!
4’11”? Oh, Teresa, I feel your pain. I’m 5’2″ and three pounds changes everything. Why do we do this to ourselves? Oh well. We’re all in it together, but we can’t ALL be crazy! :)