eating disorders, high school hell, my own house, scary, weight loss

Day 3 of Workout Tree

My mother doesn’t keep a scale in the house. In fact, as a child, I don’t ever remember having a scale within 30 miles of our residences. I think my mom was trying to avoid OWD (Obsessive Weighing Disorder) which would eventually lead her two daughters to develop full blown Eating Disorders. Or maybe she just hating weighing herself too.

As a teenager, this would drive me crazy, not knowing how many pounds I was. But without constant monitoring of my weight, it was easier to forget about it. I went through my days mostly clueless and partially in denial about my weight until I either:

  • Went to the Doctor
  • Saw a picture of myself (we really didn’t have any full length mirrors at home either)

After that, I would hide in my friend’s bathrooms, weighing myself on their scales when ever I visited. Then it would go like this:

  • Moment of HORROR- reading the numbers
  • Return home and cry about it
  • A few days later wonder how much I weighed now
  • A week later assume I either didn’t lose any weight, so I might as well eat what I want, or assume I has lost weight and could eat something greasy if I wanted.
  • Return to friend’s house and weigh myself again
  • Repeat cycle

I can’t say that having a scale in my house would have changed these habits. I think that every teenage girl one day realizes that she is no longer just a person, but a person who will be viewed as either HOT or NOT. That day is one of the worst in your life (unless by some miracle you are one of those girls who at 12 has a mature sense of confidence and self-worth), and the battle with the scale begins.

Had I been one of those girls, maybe having a scale around wouldn’t be such a big deal. All I know is at age 12, I realized my mother was hiding the scale from me, and for two reasons: to protect me from self-hatred, and to make me think that weight was not important. Of course my interpretation of that was that she didn’t want to me know I was fat, and that by keeping me in ignorance, I would be thrown in the ocean of Kate Moss and calorie counting without a paddle.

Lets just say I hardly ever look at pictures of me in High School.

I’m 25 now, and I think I have matured considerably. I think I can handle having a scale in my house. It is only a tool to help track of a healthy lifestyle, right? I can monitor without OVERmonitoring, right?

What is your opinion on having scales in your house? How many times do you weigh yourself a week? A month? A day?

I wonder how much money is made in the “scale making” business..hehe.


4 thoughts on “Day 3 of Workout Tree”

  1. I have a scale in my house and I use it almost daily. I try not to obsess about it, but some days I do. Even if I know I’ve been bad that day I still beat myself up because it shows a gain. I also remember the day you realize that you’re not a model and that boys like the cute stick figure types, not someone who doesn’t fit the Barbie sterotype. I’m still trying to overcome the being negative part about myself thing.


  2. Check out Marriage 101 (there’s a link to her on my blog… I can’t figure out how to link in a comment). She only weighs herself on Fridays, which she lovingly calls Fat-Ass Fridays. I also do not have a scale in the house. I am trying to weigh my success in weight management (ha– pun intended) by how my clothes fit. I’m more interested in the shape of my body than its weight, anyway, so there you go. Plus, I think weighing myself regularly would make me cry.


  3. Once a day, first thing. There won’t be any huge jumps, up or down, but then I can track small changes based on seemingly insignificant choices. BTW, good for you for keeping us on track, in addition to keeping yourself on track! We are supposed to be keeping each other accountable, and I wasn’t blogging (ok, partly because I haven’t been working out, but I am shooting for 2morrow). Oh, love the countdown toys!


  4. We got a scale as a wedding present. I treat it like my bank account–I don’t look at it unless I think it’s going to tell me something good. I have a somewhat sensible view on my weight–I’m in control of it, I can tell if I’m letting it get out of control, I only have myself to blame if it happens, and that I have made the decision to let it happen. That way, I’m never really surprised (except, occasionally, for the good), and I have a much easier time holding myself accountable. At the same time, I don’t hate myself at all–what would the purpose of that be? Self-loathing=not good. NEway, that’s my two cents.


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