*Ignoring the Scales

During a lively discussion among friends about weight, one of our girlfriends, the THIN one, I might add, told us the best thing she ever did was throw away her scales.  It was so liberating for her.  

"How brave," I thought. "But how does she know whether to feel good about herself or not?" I wondered.  I'm just KIDDING. Sort of.

For now, this just a mental picture I have in my fantasies.

But seriously, I pondered her words, and pictured my scales sitting on top of a heap of trash in our bin, and it made me smile.  I couldn't bring myself to do it, mind you, but just the thought of that image made me happier.  And so, for the next couple of weeks, I avoided the offending rectangular prism in the bathroom.

Each morning, I would get up, cast a glance at our scales, and then walk on by. How nice it was to just ask myself, "How have you been eating? Where could you improve?" instead of knocking myself about mentally for some arbitrary number on the dial that reflects a variety of conditions; water retention, muscle gain or loss, medication side-effects...but doesn't reflect at all on my character. Yet, that is how I'd always used it.  

In the past, the scales revealed to me my weaknesses and my flaws. They indicated whether I was in control or out of control, strong or weak, bad or good. A bonus of buying a DIGITAL scale is that it allowed me to judge myself harshly in the smallest of increments. I could determine my worth in tenths!  

So, tossing the scale, or in my case, ignoring the scale, was an act of defiance, and liberation. I was going through an emotional time, and realized I needed to be kinder to myself. 

My self-talk became more gentle, and I would suggest that I make a veggie smoothie before tackling the leftover Halloween candy. I would remind myself that I might overeat occasionally until I learn how to deal with my feelings, but that this was not the end of the world, and as soon as I started feeling better, I would increase my efforts to eat better.

Things were going quite well until I had to go to a counseling appointment. The receptionist asked the client ahead of me to step on the scales. 

"NOOOO!" my mind screamed."What in the WORLD?  They WEIGH us here? I'm going to need more than interpersonal communication counseling if she has to record my weight!"  I considered telling her she better not utter one OUNCE of my weight out loud.  I would avert my eyes.  And then I thought, ready or not, just own it. And get over it. Goodness knows I've done that enough in my life. 

So while the first client had his blood pressure taken (Blood pressure?  At a therapist's office?  Go figure.  Mine was going to be sky-high after being weighed!), I slipped off my shoes, and surreptitiously stepped onto the old-fashioned balance beam doctor's scale. 

"So glad I drank a whole quart of water on my way over here," I announced to the room, a little too loudly, to excuse at least TWO pounds of what we were about to witness, and I set the heavy metal weight about where I thought it should be, and began the fearful task of tapping the sliding weight toward the right, where the HEAVIER numbers were. Good grief. Tap...tap...tap... Well, this was not going well at all. Tap...tap...there. Well, how disappointing this particular result was to my still raw psyche. Up seven pounds from where I was when I was trying to go DOWN ten pounds.

Visions of all of my sins flashed before my eyes: Pumpkin-Spice Lattés from Starbucks, fried ice cream from Garcia's, nibbles of caramel-flavored candy corn, Pepperidge Farm Pumpkin White Chocolate Chip cookies... I HATE SCALES!!!  And then I heard the receptionist say that she wouldn't be needing my weight; not today. Whew. I scurried back over to the cold, metal scale, and nonchalantly slid the weights back over to zero, erasing any evidence of my embarrassment. Now we were back to only my having knowledge of the number. What was I going to do with this information?

I beat myself up over it for a couple of weeks, feeling TERRIBLE about the number. My birthday, numerous family celebrations, and Thanksgiving all occurred during those two weeks.  

"I'm sure this is all going extremely well," I thought. "I'm just compounding the problem with every bite of cake, every nibble of cookie, every sip of holiday drink." Every day, I imagined my weight climbing ever higher, back to my HIGHEST WEIGHT OF ALL TIME.  

Fast forward to this morning. I considered my petite friend's tossing of the scales. She simply judges her health on how well she tackles the big hill on her daily walk, how her clothes feel, and how her body is functioning. That is all well and good for her, I believe, but for me, who has always needed some sort of monitoring, I want to be able to check in from time to time to see how close my estimation is to the actual number. We "women of the Amazon" need a little reminding every now and again.

I cured myself of incessant weighing years ago. I used to weigh upon wakening, before breakfast, after breakfast, when I got home from school, after I worked out, and before I went to bed. During that period of time, I desensitized myself to the natural fluctuations of my weight. I understood better how my body was responding to water consumption, physical exertion, and eating patterns. Lately, I have lost some of my common sense approach to weight control, and need to retrain myself to eat better, and then to better understand what is going on with my weight.

So, this morning I told myself to get on with it. "Get ready to own this. You've had two weeks of being mean to yourself, now it's time to see what the reality is, and then make adjustments in lifestyle choices accordingly." I knew I would either be pleasantly surprised, or slightly overwhelmed. It was time to face the music.

Whew. I am so glad I did. My weight is down...SEVEN pounds from that day at the therapist's office. Of course, it was. I have not eaten like a madwoman...and that day I was fully dressed, minus the shoes...and remember... I'd had a full quart of water on the way to the office. No more mental abuse from myself about my habits, and no more infernal internal noise telling myself I'm off my game. How silly that I was needlessly carrying around seven pounds of emotional baggage for all of those days. Being a slave to the scale is so foolish. Now I can resume healthier eating habits, and increase the frequency of my walks.

I'm going to ignore my scales for another period of time, but I'm not going to toss them just yet. For me,  I need a little bit of accountability every once in awhile. I will continue to ask self-assessing questions, and will use the scales as one small part of assessing my health. No longer will it cast the deciding vote on whether I have worth or value. My weight is only a number; a very small part of determining my overall health, and plays no part at all in determining my value. 

Operation Accountability starts today! My scales will be a little lonelier, but I'll visit them again, just not any time soon. They're going to have to get used to feeling ignored, while I get used to taking a healthier approach to the holidays!

Ancient Chinese Secret, Huh? Master Lu Is a Good Salesman

When I walked in, I just wanted to hug Master Lu when I told him my shoulder was all better! I had taken a "stab" at ACUPUNCTURE the previous visit, and it had gone unexpectedly well. 

Master Lu was sitting at his desk and it would have been slightly awkward, though, for me to hug him, so I just thanked him profusely. He seemed pleased, if, by nodding one's head, and showing me to the treatment room, one can seem pleased.  

"Why you not come to Tai Chi?" he asked as he began inserting needles. I had wanted to; I really did, but I had forgotten until the class was half over. I reminded him that I wanted him to continue the acupuncture for appetite control and weight loss. Hey, it's worth a shot, and he doesn't charge extra for that needle by my ear.

"You need exercise."

"Like Tai Chi?" I asked.

"Yes. Tai Chi."

Of course, I do. He's a very persuasive salesman. He inserted the needles, and left me with his curt parting comment:  "Rerax."

This time I brought my iPod with me. The time creeps by at a snail's pace in there, so I thought it would be more tolerable if I listened to some of my favorite music. Maroon 5 and Tje Martin made me feel happy as I lay there staring at the faded blue carpet through the horseshoe face pillow. There were still pink tabs from used acupuncture needles on the floor. I wondered if they were the same ones I stared at last week.

I decided to try to take some pictures of the needles in my back. THAT is easier said than done, and I'm not sure he would approve of my "reraxation" technique. I took about twenty pictures with my cell phone, holding the phone up over my shoulder, trying to take pictures of my back and ear. Only five of the pictures were even slightly close to where the needles were placed.  I am just no good at selfies.

I simply wanted to show you how TINY the needles are, in case anyone thinks acupuncture is painful. I assure you; it's NOT.

In no time at all, it seemed, he turned on the light, and he started removing the needles.  

"Get up," he told me. He's not one for much conversation, until it's time to go, that is, and then the salesman in him pours it on thick.

I paid him for my visit, and then he asked if I'd thought about the product he sells in his office that promotes circulation for pain relief and healing. I'm sure I just had a dumb look on my face.  I'm not sold on it, even though he assures me, "It promising." Um, no, thanks. He explained further, "You retired. You still make money. Every month. No work. Just money. Multi-revel." Now I was certain. NO, thanks. I'm just not a pyramid scheme kind of gal.

He held up the bottle of Chinese herbs he had shown me last week for weight loss. I could feel myself weakening. I tell you; he is very persuasive for someone who is difficult to understand. I suppose I also feel some obligation to support this man who has greatly reduced my pain levels.

"How much did you say that was again?"

I don't want to even tell you how much that bottle of powdered herbs is, but I found the pricing hilarious.

"Eighty 'dorrar' twenty-five cent."  What?  Did he want to charge eighty-ONE dollars, but thought that would sound too pricey, so he tacked on the quarter to make it a LITTLE more, but not as much as $81?  Who knows?

Master Lu grabbed the front of his shirt and some of the skin under it, shook what little tummy he has with his hands, and said, "You lose ber-ry fat. Ten pounds in one month with Chinese herbs." I succumbed. I bought it. I am becoming my mother with every passing day.

Let me explain my line of reasoning. I'd already lost 3 pounds since starting acupuncture treatment. With the added benefits of six Chinese herbs I cannot identify or pronounce, I'll be simply svelte by the time the holidays are in full swing, at this rate. Then I'll just drop in after the New Year, and grab another bottle to take care of any additional poundage that results from the holiday eating frenzy. I'm a woman with a plan; what could possibly go wrong?

Don't answer that.  Let me just dwell in the possibilities for now.

P.S. Five months later, I am beginning again with my still nearly full bottle of herbal tea. It tastes like dirt, and it may not work this time, either, but I want to take advantage of anything that could help me as I attempt a thirty day sugar-free plan with my 16 year-old son. WISH ME LUCK. I'll need it. We come from a long line of sugar addicts.

P.P.S. A year later, I think I can honestly say, I only lost about three pounds using the Chinese herbs. Three pounds, and eighty-one dorrar and 25 cent.

*The Great Pumpkin

"It's going to take me a month to take off this weight I gained over the last few days," I said aloud, after devouring the delectable Pumpkin Ginger Snap Waffles for breakfast.

Why is that the case? Why is it so easy to put on 6-8 pounds over a very short period of time, and so very difficult to lose those pounds over the next several weeks? I know weight loss is based on math: calories in minus calories out. But there should be some mandatory law of physics that includes the variable of time in the equation. If there's not a law like "If you gain five pounds in five days, you can lose five pounds in five days," there should be. I'd like to speak to whomever is in charge, please.

Seriously, about once a month, I watch the bathroom scale hit some pretty high numbers for my body. I like to speak of this tragedy as though it is something the scale does on its own, something over which I have no control. But we all know better.

In the winter, I blame all of the yummy comfort foods: chowders, hearty soups, homemade rolls, holiday goodies. In the spring, it's Cadbury Mini Eggs, deviled eggs, and Easter baskets. In the summer, it's ice cream, frozen yogurt, cookies, and vacation meals on the road. And in the blessed fall, where I find myself wallowing in the comfort foods of autumn, it's pumpkin-flavored everything! And caramel-flavored everything else. We've had pumpkin muffins, pumpkin bread, pumpkin oatmeal, and pumpkin waffles. Today I succumbed to the tempting purchase of Pumpkin Spice Marshmallows.  I don't really like marshmallows, but these are PUMPKIN ones, people!  

How often can one "indulge, just this once" without having to pay the piper? I figured last Monday morning's weigh in would be a terrible comeuppance for Ms. Pumpkin Head.  Guess what! I had only gained three pounds. Not bad, not bad at all. I can take care of that this week.  If only...

If only I hadn't kept trying every single, solitary pumpkin recipe I discovered on Pinterest. I shared the cookies, I promise. I delivered them to a couple of homes.  I probably should have delivered them to MANY houses, and only kept a few cookies at home.  Waffles don't deliver well, and the muffins, well, there were only a DOZEN.  Let's see that's two for my son, and...the rest for me!  As it turns out, THIS Monday's weigh-in was a SHOCKER. Resulting in the quotation at the top of this page.

I would love to blame my weight on a wild hormonal fluctuation, but that probably plays a very small role in what's really going on. There are plenty of people who like the same foods I do who don't consume enough of them to watch their weight roller coaster over any given month. It's time to pack up the perpetual pumpkin chuck wagon, and send it down the trail. It's going to be hard, but it has to be done. If it's true what they say, you are what you eat, I better be careful. I might turn into a very plump and orange Great Pumpkin.