Scale Bashing Warrior
I remember the first time I saw a dietitian. She weighed me, and told me not to weigh myself. “Okay,” I said, knowing I was going to weigh myself as soon as I arrived home and several more times before the day would conclude. Some time after those first few sessions, the dietitian started encouraging me to bring my scale to her office.
“Why would I give you my scale? It’s like my best friend,” I seriously joked.
“That’s exactly why,” she would say back to me every time.
Truth is my scale was more than my best friend. My scale was what seemed like my everything: it determined my mood, my worth, my success.
I earned A’s in college. They meant nothing depending on the number of the scale. I earned my undergrad degree in social work. Waking across the stage and being handed my well-earned diploma meant very little to me compared to how my dress fit and number on the scale that morning and that early afternoon. I’m sure many worried about tripping or shaking hands with the wrong hand that afternoon—me?—I worried about what food was going to be at home later and how I was going to have a successful day of no weight gain.
Nothing mattered as much as a little chunk of battery operated glass that I stepped on each morning, and sometimes several more times a day. And, if it said I was failing, I was devastated.
Today, I bashed this lie.
Today, I bashed my scale.
Today, I bashed my warped view of success and gladly failed at my eating disorder.
Today, I succeed at friendships, having compassion, providing empathy, recovering, loving, and at my work.
Today, I succeed where it really matters and fail where it does not.
How do I measure failure now? I don’t. I measure how well I did the task at hand and how I can change what I did to have an even better outcome the next time. I understand and admit when I have messed up and were in the wrong. Then I do better. I define failure as sitting down, throwing in the towel, giving up and refusing to try again. With this definition, I do not have failure in my life: only successes and lessons learned while standing on solid ground and not a chunk of glass.
Oh… There is one thing I have failed at: my eating disorder. I will proudly admit that I failed at my eating disorder in many, many ways, with one being not having an acceptable number on the scale. I am proud to not be in the grips of my eating disorders lies and the abuse of its tools, the scale. I am proud to be an “eating disorder drop out” and a scale bashing warrior!
How has recovery altered your definition of success?
-Written by Tee Kaa