Feels Like I’m On Trial

I use this blog to create freedom.

I feel like I’m on trial. It seems a little dumb, but I really do.

Here’s why.

I have been going to weight watchers since 2011. I hit my goal, AND, still wanted to lose more weight.

I didn’t. I crept up a few pounds instead. After a few years, with the help of Zach, my fearless Weight Watchers Leader, I made peace with it. At 61 years old, I am healthy, fit and look pretty good for my age, despite the number on the scale. (At least I’ve been told that).

Even so, for years, on Sunday and Monday nights, I would get stressed out. My weekly weigh in was Tuesday morning. I would worry about salt, bouillon, heavy foods, and even being constipated. Every Tuesday, despite my self pep talks, I felt like something important was being determined when I got on the scale. I’m not quite sure what and that’s why I am writing this blog.

During COVID, for the first time since I started weight watchers, I felt free. I could eat soy sauce and pizza on Sunday or Monday without being stressed. There was no weigh in to worry about. I was tracking, enjoying my food and relaxed. My clothes were loose and I felt great.

I had a couple of doctors appointments during the summer and was thrilled to see I was down 5 pounds. That hadn’t happened in years. Life was great and I was looking good!!!

So what’s the problem?

That was 2 months ago. Last week they told us we have to start getting weighed once a month to keep our lifetime status. I am getting weighed in 2 days on the official scale. I have no idea what my weight is NOW.

Even though a number on the scale has no inherent meaning, my body sensations are telling me otherwise. Here goes, ladies and gentleman while I try to get to the bottom of my stress:

• If I am up on the scale, I have to do something different, be stressed, call myself a loser, and hang my head in shame. It means I don’t know what I am doing. I will continue gaining weight until I weigh over 400 pounds. Everyone I know will leave me, I’ll lose my job, end up homeless, and live on a cardboard box over a gutter so in the winter I will be warmed from the fumes of the subway. My hair will be stringy and dirty, my face will be bloated and red, and I will die a lonely and painful death.
• If I am down on the scale, I can celebrate and enjoy my life.

Wow. I never looked at this before. I can see why I’m stressed. And why I feel like I’m on trial. My weight will determine my fate – celebration and joy or a lonely and painful death. If that was really the case, there is truly a lot at stake.

That is awesome. I am so glad I wrote this. Undistinguished, this was a big freaking deal. Distinguished, I can have a really good laugh.

Truly amazing what a little sharing and saying what you don’t think you should say does. It creates freedom.

Thanks for listening. I have a new life.