The bathroom scale and I don’t get along too well.

Standing in line at the BMV, I looked at my old license picture.  The photo wasn’t taken that long ago, because I had to get a new one after I got married.  Not much has changed with my appearance; I still wear my hair the same way, I still don’t wear my glasses because I have contacts, and I still love to wear dangling earrings.

Unfortunately, after looking at my picture, I had to notice the big “W”.  The standard physical identifiers on a driver’s license are hair color, eye color, height, and weight.  I know I am not that “number” anymore.  And as much as I tried to pretend it didn’t matter, it did.

A few weeks ago, while visiting a friend, I found out what I weigh currently.  The bathroom scale was out in the open.  It would have been a great drama had the internal workings of my brain been visible.  “To weigh or not to weigh” was the question.

The good angel lost the battle and I gave in to the temptation.  I had to know how much I weighed.  Having a scale available to me without anyone else seeing me step on it was too much of a lure to resist.

Of course, I didn’t like what I saw on the digital screen.  I never like what I see there.  No matter how small the number is, it is not good enough for me.

I know can’t handle knowing my weight.  After I found out the first time, I wanted to know every second of every day: wondering after every meal if I had gained or lost weight, wondering every morning if my pants would be a little loser, wondering if my actions were contributing to a smaller waistline.

When I step on a scale, my life becomes focused on a number. My goals change and my accomplishments have to do with losing weight.  I have a bad day if I eat and a good day if I don’t eat.  Nothing else matters expect what that number says, everything else about me fads away from my consciousness.  I am no longer a woman, a wife, a painter, a teacher, a helper, a friend, a sister, a daughter…no…I am just a number.

It is safe to say that me and scales don’t get along.

I have a love/hate relationship with the bathroom scale.  I hate seeing them.  But, I cannot resist its demands.  Yet, after I know my weight I want to burn all the scales in the world.  I know it’s bad for me, yet I keep doing it.  I don’t have a scale in my house, but I encounter them from time to time, like at the gym, the doctor’s office, or a friend’s house.

I don’t go to the gym that often, so that’s not a huge issue.  At the doctor, I ask the nurse not to tell me my weight and I stand on the scale backward.

If you want to help me and other girl’s struggling to break-up with the scale, put your weighing machine away someplace where we can’t see it: in a cupboard, under the sink, in a closet, in the trash.  (You can do it!  I believe in you!)

If you can’t throw away your scale yet, put a posted note on it that says “I am more than this number”.  This reminder will help you keep things in perspective.

You are so much more than a number.  That number means nothing.  You are a beautiful, worthy, deserving child of God.  It doesn’t matter how much you weigh or what you look like, God still loves you.