Scales

I don't use BMI to judge my fitness. It's a terrible scale and I can't understand why it's so universally used. It doesn't take into account muscle mass or bone structure. I know that weight isn't the best judge of fat content. So why do I still weigh myself every day?

Why do I feel close to panic when I see that I've gained three pounds since yesterday?

To gain three pounds of fat, I would have had to have eaten more than 10000 calories more than my body expended. Even my biggest binges wouldn't have reached that total.

My boyfriend took me out for dinner last night. It was at a nice restaurant with excellent quality and I enjoyed it. I was able to focus not on the thoughts of, "Oh, god, how much fat is in this?" but on the fact I was sharing delicious food with someone I love. That alone is a sign of how far I've come over the past few years.

But I still stood on the scales this morning and all the old thoughts rushed back. I know logically that I can't have gained that much fat. I know that it's natural fluctuations, water content and the remains of the dinner still in my digestive systems. Yet it still felt like failure.

There were a lot of times during my eating disorder where it felt that my mind was split into two parts. I don't me an actual split personality disorder. I just mean that I felt there was the sensible part of my mind that could see what was happening and understand it. And then there was the rest of me. Every time I went to buy food for a binge, the sensible part of my brain would be saying, "Make yourself a sandwich if you're hungry. You don't want to do this." But the rest of me was still under the control of the disorder and wouldn't listen.

Over time, the two voices have shifted position. Now the sensible part is the louder voice and keeps me in control. That's the part of my brain that tells me it's alright to have a biscuit and that just because I ate a lot the day before it doesn't mean I shouldn't have dinner. But the little disordered voice is still there in the background, whispering that I'm fat and a failure and that an hour at the gym just isn't long enough.

I wish there was some way to make that little voice disappear. All I can do is try to ignore it and hope it fades further into the background.

But I will keep getting on the scales each morning. It means giving in to that little voice a bit each day, but it's better than the alternative. It's better than not knowing and having my imagination add pound upon pound to my weight.