I try hard not to weigh myself anymore. It’s not as easy as it may seem, but I find that I am a much more content person if I don’t know what I weigh. When I do know what I weigh, I seem to be more obsessed than ever about numbers. If I am above or below my “ideal” weight it’s the only thing I can think about. So I avoid scales. Sort of.
It’s a bit like trying to avoid alcohol. Even if I am abstaining from alcohol, it still exists all around me either in restaurants or in grocery stores or on billboards. Alcohol is not going away. Neither are scales. I can be minding my own attention browsing through Target and I will happen to pass by a scale. In the past I have taken the scale off of its shelf and hopped on. After I read the number I lose interest in anything else I might have been thinking about. There are scales in gym locker rooms, scales at the doctor’s office, scales at friends’ houses. Scales are not going away.
What is more important to me as a person with an eating disorder is to know whether or not it’s good for me to know my weight. If I use the scale to engage in harmful behaviors such as starving myself or restricting food, then I am probably not in the best emotional state to know my weight. Also scales vary greatly in accuracy so I am probably not getting my true weight. I’ve also noticed than I weigh more at night than in the morning, almost a five-pound difference at times.
The scale is not my friend. My eating disorder loves the scale because it knows it will make itself the most important mission at hand. It takes me hostage and the central thoughts in my head will be about weight control or body image. Once again it has me under its tight control. I’m not saying that I will never again get on a scale, but for right now, it’s best I am left in the dark.