A Letter to My Scale

Dear Scale,

I hate you.  My mother always told me not to use the word hate because it is too strong a word.  In this case, hate is the most appropriate word.

I hate the power you have over me.  You can turn a perfectly good day into a miserable test of existence.  I can step on you with confidence only to be shot down by the number that appears.  My mood turns from happy to frustrated, depressed, angry and defeated.  My family suffers because of you.

I hate that you pass judgement on me.  You don't know me.  You don't know how hard I work and struggle to make healthy choices.  You don't know that I am out sweating my ass off just to please you.  Yet the judgement is real and it stings.  Sometimes you give me the news I want but those moments are fleeting.  I hate that even when I do see what I want I only use it as an excuse to make terrible choices and "hope" for the best.

I hate that your judgement is my obsession and has been for as long as I can remember.  From the first embarrassing moment when I stepped on the scale in 3rd grade to see the number 108 and the shame it left me, to the first (and every) time my success was measured at a Weight Watchers meeting, I have hated you.  No child should give you so much thought.

To put it simply, you don't know what I'm made of.  You are simple-minded and short-sighted.  I am strong and I am healthy.  I can push myself to places you can't imagine.

I've come to the conclusion that you are useless and a waste of my time.  I've decided that your information is irrelevant and you can't begin to define me.  I am more (or less) than you tell me I am.

I've decided that I am going to hate you because I am tired of hating myself.

Regards,
Stacie

Every second that you spend on doubting your worth, every moment that you use to criticize yourself; is a second of your life wasted, is a moment of your life thrown away. It's not like you have forever, so don't waste any of your seconds, don't throw even one of your moments away.”
― C. JoyBell C.