I finally got back on the scales - after almost seven years of proudly ignoring my weight.
Yesterday, after three months living in the UK, I finally registered with the NHS (for all of you not from the UK, the NHS is the National Health Service). About time, I know.
So, I show up at the clinic and expect it to take five minutes, so I can speed off and get started on a brand-new magazine piece. The lady behind the counter hands me a couple of forms and says, "okay, just fill these out and then go over there and get the machine to measure your height, weight and blood pressure."
I freeze. My height, blood pressure and my what?
The thing is, I haven't been on the scales for almost seven years. As I've previously told you, I've had an eating disorder. During this period of my life, I got obsessed with the scales. Numbers were everything to me and I weighed myself every single morning.
As part of my recovery, my therapist encouraged me to throw out the scales. Well, not literally. What I had to do was learn to think about my body and my looks from a point of view that didn't include measuring, controlling and numbers. Slowly but surely, I taught myself to appreciate my body for being healthy and give it the nourishment and exercise it needed - and ignore the scales.
Seven years passed without me knowing my weight - until yesterday morning. I approached the machine with a slight tremble in my step and in my mind. Would this catapult me back into disordered thinking? Would seeing my weight in numbers make me go back to my old ways? Facing the demon that had brought me down years ago was scary to say the least - but it had to be done. I wanted to be able to conquer the scales.
I stepped on the scales and got ready for the truth. A number came up. A normal number, not too high or too low. I breathed a sigh of relief: I was okay, but not for the number. I was able to face the scales again, knowing that they had no power over me anymore. I've grown to acquire a new sense of security in my own skin that helps me rest comfortably in the knowledge that I am not my weight.
But this security has taken some time and thought. And I don't think I'll ever be completely there. It's so hard not get caught up in a thinking that says, "oh, but I've had breakfast, and I'm wearing clothes, so in reality I weigh less than this." Still, I feel like I've crossed some major hurdles. I acknowledge these thoughts and try to let them go.
And if you really want to know, I weigh 58 kg (that's 9st or 127 pounds). My BMI is 21. You know, after breakfast and while wearing clothes.
Pictures from Pinterest