i know this is what you expect to hear from a woman; but it really isn’t what you think. for the last quarter of a century, i have lived scale free (at the s. unit’s demand which i was good with and have been glad for). this has worked exceedingly well for me to not tie my life and identity to the emotional anchor of weight and its minor fluctuations. i learned to turn my attention to weight if i was physically uncomfortable or the zip woouldn’t zipper, which is a reasonable cause to make adjustments up or down. and to note and adjust again if my body couldn’t keep up on an activity i wanted or needed to do…thus implementation of exercise at times (yes i know i am ending my sentences dangling–get over it self and other). well sometimes i have lived pretty dang parsimoniously and simply didn’t want to buy more clothes, bigger or smaller. so i have paid attention when there is reason or i am simply hormonal. i am sure there has been a bit of vanity in there but really shouldn’t be since mostly i have been fortunate with my genome which isn’t anything to take pride in as though i had done something great…it’s just been an unearned gift i received.
for the last couple of years, i have had to fight the opposite direction than most women since i am naturally angular…if you strip those facial angles of the little fatty tissue that did exist, you end up with the third world refugee look–perhaps in a magazine this is beautiful with hollowed cheeks, iliac crests jutting, ribs protruding, and clavicles frailly distended from sunken meatless flesh but in really life it looks unhealthy and sad.
anyhow this morning was just wrong when i stood on the scale!!! NO. dang it that can’t be right! for many reasons, even when i see a scale, i don’t climb on because i know i will unnecessarily respond to its silly calculations. much the same way i respond to other people’s judgments when measuring me to see in what ways i may be defective or inadequate for the task at hand.
looking down, squinting to read the numbers, on the mechanical device, a part of my mind smiles, the part that listens to cultural dictates and appreciates my small ass, but the more whole part of me tugs saying, that is stupid low, not healthy. it far lower than i expected or should be for my 5’9″ frame…and i am pretty sure i’ve put at least 10 pounds back on or at least that is what i tell myself and friends…is the scale wrong? should i pay attention. they usually are off a bit, but that much? it was unexpected. maybe my friends just buy my story of gain because my features soften as my grief continues to settle a bit and i accept things and people from my past for who they may actually be as well as accept their various relational capacities as i understand my own.
i am not use to scales, don’t like them, and really do not want to tie my emotions to them whether the scale runs high, low or smack dead on. so i will just trust my angular softening and not fret about being too thin. darn but not this morning as i react to that stupid scale to which i DO respond. i stopped and bought a box of crescent rolls and ate 5 or 6 because i don’t want to look like a refugee in any form and i am not a refugee! i am constantly given more than i can even think to ask for whether it be a baby pseudo tractor to mow my mini-meadow, an elevated hermitage with a view, a microforest and mini meadow to meander, or two jobs (making and mentoring) which feel like walking in my own skin (except the politic side which i pretty much despise cause i am not into competition…i’d prefer everyone do well; not one over or against another). today though in response to the scale, i was shoving some extra carbs down my throat to enhance the softening…
i hate scales whether they be mechanical or the judgment of the human kind…i don’t perform well for either and will stop stepping onto them or into it. both the mechanical and judgmental are error ridden because most measuring devices, organic and inorganic, are flawed in various ways…hmmmm. as is my grammar.0