Liar, Liar…I’m on fire!!!!
Someone once said, “The most dangerous liars are those who think they are telling the truth”. I have to say that I have come into contact with said dangerous liar. This liar has made me feel dumb, sad, angry, and delusional. I have gone to therapy for this liar, I have stayed up late thinking about this liar, and I have learned to meditate as a way to cope with this liar. It makes me feel bad about myself, all the time. I am in a very abusive relationship with this liar. I think I do not need it, I think I am stronger than having to see it, but then something calls to me. I hate it, and the second I am ready to give it up, it pulls right back in by telling me what I want to hear.
Why do I keep going back to this evil demon in my life, you ask? Because it keeps me honest…to a degree. In case you were wondering this horrible component of my life that I am referring to is the scale. The device that “tells” me how I am doing in life. So much hope and faith is put into such a small and basic device. I hate having to interact with it each week, but my history shows that if I do not work with it, I throw everything healthy I know out the window and just go buck wild with food and laziness.
All my life, I have had a very strong love/hate relationship with my scale. Currently, I am hating it. I hate how I am counting p**nts religiously, watching and resisting putting bad things in my mouth, and working out sometimes 8 hours a week at CHHRC, but that horrible little machine refuses to budge in numbers.
I decided to take matters in my own hands. I know I am losing inches and gaining muscle. I know that I am getting healthier and healthier each day so I outsmarted the evil lying genius. At first, I thought my 10-year-old scale was broken, every time, I got on it it would be a vastly different weight. I went out and bought a super-fancy blue-tooth state of the art scale. It does the same thing! So I have decided to just go with it. Maybe its a sign. Maybe the benevolent weight gods want me to feel good about myself. So I am going to go with it. Each Wednesday, I get up and weigh myself. I move the scale around on the bathroom floor until it gives me a weight that I technically deserve through the effort I put out that week. Don’t get me wrong, when I ate every piece of chocolate that was not nailed down to the floor around Halloween, I did not take the lowest weight the scale gave me. I made sure to signify again that week because it was Halloween and I ate all of Hershey, Pennsylvania.
I really do not know what my weight is and I do not care either. Every day, I am moving a lot, eating healthily, and putting me first. I do not need to engage in an abusive relationship with a dumb machine. I was talking about it this morning at my 5:30 am Mossa Centergy class. I was complaining that the scale isn’t moving, and they asked if I am feeling it in my clothes. Of course, I said yes because a lot of my clothes are swimming on me right now. Dana, the instructor, celebrated that and made me feel so much better about the situation. She, also, gave me a great idea. She told me to get a pair of pants that I love but are small on me, and each week see how much better I fit into them until they fit perfectly. That is the true measure of being healthy and successful at this life change I am going through.
I will not let that liar of a scale drag me down. Three months ago, I started this journey and still -through the holidays and craziness of life- I am invested in me. So to that scale I say, “liar, liar pants on fire” and to me I sing, “This girl is on fire!!”