It’s been just shy of a year since I’ve last written, and my weight loss journey continues. These efforts often feel like the only true constant in my life, which makes me sad. “I don’t want this to be my life’s work,” I’ve cried on more than one occasion. And yet here I am, a few months shy of my 41st birthday, still trying to lose weight.
Those of you who have been following me for some time know that I finally gave up “dieting” in 2020 and apologized for my participation in perpetuating diet culture. My weight loss journey shifted to one focused on recovery and balance — recovery from eating disorders and addictive behaviors, and balance instead of all or nothing thinking and actions. I’d be lying if I said I never wavered — I’m not immune to the promises of a good marketing team and those flashy before and after photos. But in the end, I’ve been able to stop myself (even if one time it was only because of a $1,300/month price tag on a new prescription that a friend of mine was having great success with).
I’ve had my own successes. My relationship with food and alcohol is healthier than it has ever been. And I’ve done it on my own (with the support of my amazing boyfriend.)
But I am still overweight.
Why am I writing now? Specifically because I have something to say about scales, and attachment to outcomes.
Attachment to an outcome leads to disappointment
You will find support for weighing yourself every day, once a week, once a month, once a year, never and everything in between. There is no consensus. It seems the only thing everyone agrees on is that weight fluctuates day to day, hour to hour, and we need to be mindful of this.
I came here today to tell you that if you get on a scale with any expectation, or attached to any outcome, you will most often be disappointed. Just look at this post I wrote on May 24, 2017 (my birthday)!! It’s about a girl NOT getting her birthday wish because HER BIRTHDAY WISH WAS A NUMBER ON A SCALE.
From the post:
This birthday wish has consumed me, especially these past few days as I made all my last ditch attempts to make my wish come true. That included walking 11 miles yesterday, and ending my day in a sauna. I didn’t care if the number was back up over 200 after breakfast, or even a tall glass of water. I only wanted to see 199.9 for a second, just to know it was possible.
As you can see, weighing myself has ruined many mornings. This morning, I really wanted to get on the scale, but I stopped myself. Why? Because last time I wanted to step on the scale, I felt awesome! A second later, I wanted to drive my fist through the wall. I anticipated a significant decrease. I attached myself to this thought. The reality (the outcome) was that the number disappointed me.
In that instant, I went from optimistic and excited and feeling lighter on my feet, to feeling helpless, frustrated. angry, and discouraged.
All because of a number on a scale.
Did I mention that before getting on the scale I felt awesome? I know weight fluctuates. I know I’ve been eating better. I know muscle weighs more than fat (and I’ve been working out consistently the past three weeks). But I let the number get to me.
So I promised myself I would only weigh myself the 1st, 15th, and last of the month purely because I am still a data nerd and because weight is still a valuable indicator. In between, if I am dying to measure my progress in some way, I will focus on how I feel. I have a winter coat and pair of pants that don’t fit that I can try on. (Thank goodness it’s been a mild winter here in the mid-atlantic). And yes, measuring yourself is also a good option (again, as long as you don’t attach to the outcome). I did this for years and decided it’s just easier to try on some things that don’t fit.
This very simple concept that attachment and expectation leads to suffering is universal. It applies to everything in our lives.
So I will continue doing what I’m doing: drinking less alcohol, eating cleaner, and exercising regularly and I will try to keep the hopes and expectations at bay and let be what will be.
