Weight, Weight Don't Tell Me: or how I decided to give up my scale for 30 days.

My alarm goes off at 6:15 AM like it does most mornings.  The first thing I do when I get out of bed is weigh myself; or let’s be honest, I pee, since that may make the number on the scale a few ounces less.  I’ve been “good” for several days in a row, and by good I mean I have eaten a low calorie, low carb diet.  My hopes are up that I am on a downward trajectory, which will be a vast improvement over the upward climb of my weight this summer.  No such luck.  I’m up a half a pound.  WTH? My mood quickly turns south, and I start plotting out what I’m going to eat and not eat on this day to make up for my sins of the summer.  This is a typical day in my life.  Sigh.

I really don’t want to be the person the above paragraph describes.  I aspire to be a woman who is not emotionally held hostage to the number on the scale, who loves and accepts herself at any size, and who can finally let go of the cycle of basing her happiness and worth as a woman on the numbers she sees every morning of her life.

I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster of weight loss and gain my entire life, and the people who love me have unfortunately been along for the ride.  For years I was 20 – 30 lbs. overweight, which on my small frame felt and looked more like 50.  Nowadays, I struggle with 10 – 15 lbs.  I think there was one day in like 1999 when I wore a size 4 pair of jeans, and would you believe that it was the day after Thanksgiving spent at home in Mississippi?  Maybe I could have worn a size 2 the day before Thanksgiving that year.  If you think I’m joking, I’m not: I gain weight just by thinking about food.  I’ve probably gained a pound or two writing this paragraph. 

To make matters worse, I have two daughters who are growing up watching me weigh every day.  I try hard not to talk about dieting and weight in front of them, but privacy is not something I have yet experienced as a mom: my girls still come in and out of my bathroom. For them, a closed door may as well be an invitation for them to enter. They notice the daily weigh ins. I worry about what that does to their body image and their relationship to food and weight.  I want to be a role model for health, emotional and physical.  What messages am I sending them?  I do give them positive messages and try my best to model healthy behaviors, such as regular exercise and enjoying treats in moderation.  Our family motto is practically “will bike for treats”.  What’s not to love about that?  I’m far from perfect but I don’t think I’ve completely screwed them up.  Yet. 

I have clients who have deep struggles with their body image and their weight.  I sometimes feel like a fraud counseling them when I am also struggling with my own issues around my body.  I’m offering myself compassion for this one, though.  Counselors are human, too, and are not exempt from struggles and insecurities, far from it. 

After my weigh in this morning and my subsequent gloom over the half a pound gained, I decided something needs to give.  I’m worn out.  Can I go a day, a week, a month without weighing myself?  The thought of not having my daily weigh in panics me.  What if I gain a bunch of weight?  How will I know how I’m doing with my continuing battle?  Might this be an opportunity to listen intuitively to my body rather than allowing a scale to hold me hostage emotionally?  Ha! Can I allow myself to trust my body, not fight against it but actually listen to it, and perhaps even offer it, if not love, a truce?  I decide I’m ready to try. 

When my husband gets home from work I ask him if he would hide the scale from me for a month.  I didn’t have to ask him twice.  It was out of sight within 5 minutes of our conversation.  A few minutes later my good friend came over and I tell her my plan.  She tells my husband she will take the scale home with her in case I try to find it.  She knows me well.  She also tells him she has been telling me for years to ditch the scale.  I guess I wasn’t ready yet.  I’m not sure I’m ready now but I’ve committed.  No weighing until September 14.  Now that I’ve written about it and shared it, I have to stick to my guns. 

I will follow up in 30 days on how it goes.  Wish me luck!

Love y’all,

Rebecca

When life gives you lemons...

My heart has been heavy recently with news of a friend’s cancer returning; shootings that have become commonplace in our country; new construction in my area which decimated ancient trees and re-farmed, at least I hope so, beloved animals we liked to wave hello to; and with the general lack of courtesy and empathy seen all across social media.  Someone please remind me to stop reading comments on Facebook articles, the quickest way I know to get discouraged with humanity.  (Humans of New York is the one exception.  I read those Facebook comments to remind myself that people are good and kind, even online.  The series happening in Pakistan now, both the photos and the comments, simultaneously breaks my heart and makes it smile.)

My job as a mental health counselor tends to break my heart as well.  Over time I’ve learned to separate myself from the pain and trauma of my clients when I leave my office, but I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t impacted by it, or at least I would not be a human I like.  I’m deeply moved by the stories of heartache, longing, despair, and resiliency people entrust me with.  Being a container, a safe place to hold emotions, for each of my clients feels like sacred work.  To provide a container able to handle others intense emotions, I have to find my own container, otherwise my emotions will spill out onto others in my life.  Since I’m far from perfect, that emotional spillage does happen of course, but I’ve found that at various points in my life my own therapy helps, as well as my clinical supervision.  Most importantly for me, though, is living life in relationship and living life with joy.  Friendship and fun are a couple of my ways of combatting the harsh realities and sadness of this world.  Enter tutus.

I ran my first race in 2010 in a green tutu.  It was the 5k Portland Shamrock run.  I have since sported a pink tutu for the Girlfriends half-marathon, a rainbow tutu for the Hippy Chick Half marathon, and a green and red one for a Christmas fun run, among others.  One of my mom’s friends saw my tutu pictures on Facebook and sent me a sign that says, when in doubt wear a tutu, which sounds like a great life philosophy to me.  For a variety of health reasons, I can’t run anymore, but I jump at the chance to wear a tutu.  I believe in sparkles, tutus, bows, glitter, and color, especially pink.  No, I’m not a 4 year old little girl.  I’m a grown woman who enjoys all things whimsical and fun.  It’s hard not be happy when you are wearing a tutu.  Just typing the word tutu makes me happy.

Yesterday I walked a 7k fun run with a great group of women.  They know my love of dress up and tutus and they actually trusted me to pick out our outfits.  We looked adorable.  I can say that since I’m talking about all 7 of us, right?  Plus, it’s true:  We rocked those tutus and sparkly skirts!  We registered as a team with the name Lemon Drop Ladies, so of course we had to have shirts that went with that theme.  What is life without a themed outfit?   That’s completely rhetorical, by the way.  These shirts and our skirts were conversation starters all evening, particularly when we left the event and headed to NW Portland for dinner and treats. 

The Lemon Drop Ladies

When life give you lemons add vodka!

Little Big Burger was a great treat after our 7K walk!

The outfits were fun but the time with friends laughing and catching up made the evening magical.  I liked the times we were all laughing and talking together, but I especially enjoyed that I had meaningful one on one conversations with all 6 women throughout the evening. 

I’ve learned that I need to be intentional about finding joy in life.  Here are a few things that bring me joy and fill me up:  Dressing up.  I’m planning my Halloween outfit now and there are a few other outfits I have up my sleeve: pun, bad as it is, intended.  Reading.  I am always reading.  It is sometimes hazardous to my health, (try walking down the stairs reading a Kindle book, or actually don’t) hazardous to my relationships, (Steve and the girls will readily attest to the many times they try to get my attention when I’m lost in a book. Sorry, not sorry, family) hazardous to my sleep, (I can’t pull an all-nighter anymore but I have stayed up long past by bedtime to finish a book I can’t put down.)  Family.  I get the most joy in life from the people I love and my girls and hubs are at the top of that list.  They make me laugh, keep me grounded, and remind me every day that I am loved and that I belong to them and they to me.  Friends.  Living in relationship is foundational for me.  I appreciate all of the friends in my life, especially the ones that love me for who I am and let me know them and love them for who they are. 

Want to wear a tutu and walk a 7k with us?  We are already planning next year’s outfit.  In the meantime, when life gives you lemons, just add vodka…and friends, and tutus.