Serenity Scale

I have struggled with scale obsession since I had gastric bypass surgery in August 2005. Before then I rarely stepped on the scale, mostly because many of them didn't go past 300 pounds.

Once I started losing weight, the scale became a friend. It reinforced my success, rewarded my hard work, ticked off my goals in ten-pound increments...and slowly, silently seduced me every single day, then hour, then with specific restrictions and expectations. At one point a few months back, I had 3 different scales in the home and would use all them to weigh myself at various stages of undress, bodily fluid content and nutrition intake. Usually 20 to 25 times a day. Sometimes more. Rarely less.

As the weight loss slowed, especially during the 18 months, the scale became my judge. My jury. Every morning I appeared before it, receiving the same judgement and sentence: FAT LOSER, WEIGH AGAIN.

I thrived on the hope of lower numbers and lived in fear of escalating ones. I felt damned if I stepped on the scale, damned if I didn't. So I just kept stepping.

In October when I did my first round of treatment for bulimia, the scales were removed from the house. They returned to my property in November...but in the garage. By Christmas time, two of them were in the house. One in the kitchen and one in the upstairs bathroom. The kitchen one was confiscated by a wise friend, but the bathroom one remained.

And every morning, I weighed myself naked before emptying my bladder and then after. Once again when I stepped out of the shower. Once more when I was clothed. And then a final time when I left the upstairs for the morning. In case I had gained weight in that 25 minutes span.

In the evening, I'd weigh myself naked before emptying my bladder and then after, always just before bed. I got off easy on the evening schedule.

Now that I'm in treatment again, I find myself engaging in eating disorder thoughts and behaviors the evening before and the morning of hospital weigh-ins. How much should I eat. How much water will I retain. Did I piss or shit enough to lose a half of a pound. Can I have another cup of coffee and will my body be ready to eliminate it in the hour. Crazy. But my life.

Tuesday of this week was difficult. Lunch time presented a MAJOR trigger, actually two. And then during the following nutrition class, where the discussion was on scale power, I left to purge in the bathroom. A friend came in and talked me through it, so I didn't. However, I returned to the class in full ED mode, belligerent, pissy, not willing to budge. So I declared my love of the scale, my need for its consistency and honesty, my unwillingness to ever let it out of my life. It made me who I am.

Thankfully, I recovered from that episode in just a couple hours. And that evening was the one that led into my exceptional Snow Day Wedsneday, that flowed into my Amazing Thursday.

When I woke yesterday, resolved to have a good day and be well, I was still faced with the scale. So I took matters into my own hands. I made a CHOICE to CHANGE.

I grabbed my sharpies and started writing affirmations on the scale. (I had long justified keeping this scale because I was also going to use it as an art project.)

I started...

YOU HAVE A CHOICE. YOU ARE MORE THAN A NUMBER ON ANY SCALE. And I just wrote. Affirmation after affirmation thatI truly believed or wanted to believe. The words switched from second to first person. My statements became bolder.

When I was done, I felt so POWERFUL. I felt VICTORIOUS, infused with strength. And I promised myself that I can step on that scale any time I want...with the only condition being that I must accept with grace and hold true in my heart all the statements I wrote. If I didn't buy into the words, I couldn't step on the scale. Deal.

So I set it aside. Finished shovelling the gazillion pounds of white bricks that fell from the sky during the night, returned to the house, stripped my clothes and accepted my chosen words. I stepped on the scale.

I felt like the color soaked into the soles of my feet, the words rooting them selves in my bones, fortifiying them, reaching upward until I felt the words twinge in my chest, reverberate in my head. And then I looked at the digital display. I don't remember what the number said. I only saw words written in light green ink, visible only upon illumination. Words that I hadn't remembered writing: I AM BRAVE.

I was. I am. The only thing I wasn't was a number on a scale. My Serenity Scale.

The words in the photo might be hard to read, so here's what I've written:

You have a choice. You are more than a number on any scale. The number on the scale does not determine the nature of your day or the worth of your person. Sometimes a number is just a number. The sum of who I am is never reflected by the weight on the scale. I have a choice and the strength to make it. I can step on this scale anytime I want...but I choose not to let the number dictate my mood or my behavior. I accept responsibilityfor my reactions to that numbers and if does affect me--if I do let it affect me--then I also hold the power to change how I feel. I am a strong, confident, capable, compassionate woman. I am acceptable. I am lovable. I am worthy. I am at peace with my weight. I listen with love to my body's messages. I have a CHOICE. I am MORE than a number on this or any scale. I release all crticism of my body and myself. A new day is just a step away--on or off the scale. I accept myself and I LOVE my body and who I am and who I will be. The number on the scale is temporary. As it changes, I remain the same spirit. The essence of who I am is only reflected by the deeds I do, the good I create, the love I am willing to release back to the universe. When I step on this cale, I accpet the number that appears as just a number. And I accept myself without question. JENNIFER or JEN, and sometimes JENNY...creative, inquisitive, unpredictable; daughter of hope who feels fragile, who needs courage, who gives, who fears, who chooses to live.