I used to let the scale rule my life and ruin my days but now I am in control, not Ed.
My first really bad experience with the scale happened when I was seeing a so-called nutritionist who specialized in eating disorders, yet she clearly didn't know the first thing when it came to weight. At the first visit she told me how she would just weigh me to keep track of my progress but by the third visit she was congratulating me on reaching the three digit mark. Huh? Um, hello! I have anorexia, a three digit number is NOT something to get excited about (at least these were my thoughts at the time).
Anyhoo, after that I was horrified and determined to never let myself stay in that three digit range. So, obviously this was a very bad idea and I kept track obsessively to make sure I was always below the mark. This lasted for quite a long time until I was sent to treatment where everything fell apart, but I won't go into that now. Once I was out of treatment, we no longer owned a scale so there was nothing I could do about controlling it anymore, but at my weekly doctor visits I would sneak a peak at my charts to see where I was at. Rebel, I know. I would secretly monitor my weight to make sure I was at the lower end of my "goal weight" at all times.
To make a long story short, the scale was my way of being in control of my life. If I was at a good weight (in Ed's eyes) I was beautiful, worthy, and successful. When I wasn't, I would go into freak-out mode, get depressed and think about how much of a failure I had become.
This all changed (slowly) back in February when I started getting into weight training and wanting to be strong. I would read article upon article about how the scale would never be able to tell me my real worth and how inaccurate it really was.
As I got more in depth in my training, I began building muscle and actually seeing the changes, which was an awesome feeling. I felt strong and had muscles to prove it. I ate real food because I knew it was fueling my workouts and I rested because I knew it would allow for my muscles to grow. I never once thought about the scale, until one day I was at Ben's house and I saw it in his room. I tried to hold back the temptation to step on it but couldn't.
So I got on.
I saw the number. It was back up to my pre-relapse weight and to my surprise it didn't effect me much. Sure, Ed was screaming in my ear about how I could let this happen and he kept asking me why I wasn't upset with myself.
"Because, Ed, you no longer control me, that's why."
I gained muscle, therefore the scale weight went up. In any other situation this would have completely ruined my whole day but because I now knew that muscle weighed more than fat, it was no longer an issue.
Working out and lifting heavy has given me so much more confidence in not only my body, but also myself as a person. I am stronger physically but I am also stronger mentally. There is something about seeing my progress in the gym that makes me proud of my accomplishments and about who I am as a person.
Today, after my workout I stepped on the scale and it read an abnormally high number, but instead of getting upset, guess what I did?
Yes, I laughed and I walked away. The scale will no longer tell me if I am worthy or not and that is a very good thing.
With the help of weight training, I have come to learn that I am a very strong person inside and out, no matter what the scale reads. <3
Oh and by the way, the winner of my granola bar giveaway is...
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