Not going into the whole sordid body image mess, because I'm still working through it. But dammit to hell-if you can't depend on your scale, what CAN you depend on? And, it was wrong to the good, which means it's now right to the bad. Kiss My ASS.
Worse, logic (oh yeah, logic shows up at the worse times) stepped in before I could go into a full meltdown-because honestly, if I felt fine about me yesterday and the day before and the two weeks the scale was WRONG-I really couldn't allow myself a spiral into loathing because a number changed. How annoying is THAT? Kiss MY ASS!
We are talking about a 15 pound swing-which means my body perception is really screwed. BUT, it does show improvement because there was a time when a one pound gain would have sent me scurrying for the ex lax. Kiss my ass little piddly poundage problems. Kiss my ass that I even cared about one pound-one lousy pound would ruin my day.
To determine what it meant in terms of graphs (I love graphs) I simply removed the wrong weight, and viola, at my current calorie consumption I lost a pound over several weeks, which in my world because I am NOT that amped up about a pound either way-is maintaining. That's the good news. The bad news is the damn number is 15 pounds over what I set.
So, here I am, happy, but not self righteous because I can't parade around declare myself "At goal". I can feel the relief (sick relief) flooding my brain-I can diet again, as well as that stubborn logic saying-"what changed if you were happy yesterday?" And, bloody hell, I'm still reasonably happy today. Issues yes, but I feel exactly the same about my body today as I did yesterday. Well, Kiss my Ass stupid scale.
AAAGH-another false perception. I was not invisible yesterday either-at a weight that should have rendered me at least translucent. Kiss My Ass.
I want to be clear about something. I'm not so much pissed off at the scale, as I am staggering under the full weight of all those years of obsessing about something that clearly didn't matter. It only mattered because I let it matter, because I thought it mattered, because it mattered to me. Damn and Kiss my ass.
Perception is a powerful thing. Not going to KMA to perception because it can be just as good as not.
Perspective is not the same thing. My perspective when I step on the scale is pretty much the same-it's what I do AFTER the number hits that's up to me. Wow. Kiss my ASS Perspective, I can pick my own.
6 comments:
I got another little gift as I was trying to explain this to my father. Elderly men don't really get twisted logic to begin with, but even a year ago he would have said something dismissive and my feelings would have been hurt.
Today I could see the battle going on behind his face-that familiar look that says "she's saying something that's important to her and I don't get it"....but THAT was all I needed to see in order to be heard. A while back he never would have recognized that it was important to ME.
I was about to take him off the hook but he did come up with a response. "You are not fat, so don't think about it." and I laughed and agreed.
The answer is such a small part of things-a bigger part is that both parties hear and are heard.
we women have to live with such double standards, men don't give a fuck how they look,so all men can kma..(not literally of course). my scale is happy at the moment -it shows me 9 pounds lighter than i was in july, why does it matter? because that anorexic/bulimic women inside me will never leave..she lurks always..and that's okay if and only if the scale shows a good number..fucked up logic? you bet!!!
Bulemia/anorexia are such weird diseases. It helps me just to break it out into behavior-doesn't matter WHY I want to puke, I'm not going to.
I do think I understand some of the whys but again, it doesn't really matter-the behavior is what must be stopped. Stopping the behavior seems to put the why's under control too-or some of them anyway.
You are right though-men aren't just naturally gifted with better attitudes-there is a huge double standard about such things.
Heh-the one way to send me into an irrational rage is for some MAN to say that there isn't a double standard or that I'm hiding behind a "supposed" double standard....I just rocket skyward when I hear that.
ok, it must be too late and i can't get out of first gear, because i can't tell whether that scale gave you an extra 15 pounds or told you you weighed less than you actually do. one is better than the other, right?
my scale is too damn reliable. ten pound weight gain over the summer. lost 40, gained 10 back. damn.
xo
Two thoughts going through my mind: First, have you seen the movie Ratatouille? When the food critique Ego is in their restaurant, he orders "a little perspective." I always thing about that scene when I hear the word perspective : ) http://www.moviehamlet.com/review/1483/ratatouille-the-little-chef-that-could. Next, it occured to me last week that my hubbie can get out of bed, brush his teeth, throw on some clothes and he looks presentable to the world. I on the other hand, have to shower, shave, dry my hair, style it, put on makeup, dig through my closet for clothes to get dressed, find the right shoes, put on some jewelry, all of which takes hours. So the difference in men and women getting ready can KMA. Bosses who don't help their employees grow and get promoted - KMA. And as usual, infertility - KMA.
The last few years of work I did almost a uniform-black pants and some sort of sweater-sleeve dependent on the season. Black shoes. Everything went with everything else so I only had to grab for pants/shirt-no thinking beyond that.
I cut all my hair off at times, or just wore it pulled back. No make-up, just moisturizer. I wore jewelry just because I wanted to wear it some times, not because it went with anything.
It's kind of a weird thing to think about, because some women actually WANT to dress up, and I don't think they should be penalized. But I also hate that certain areas require it, back office functions or not.
While I understand the theory behind dress for the job you want-it pisses me off to no end that you have to "buy" your way into the old boys or girls club with just the right suit.
I do dress for the job I'm going to do on a particular day. Today I'm cleaning the kitchen (maybe) and I'm wearing floral ballet slippers, knee knocker camo shorts and an Old Navy T shirt that has Santa Claus on it and says Ho Ho Ho across the front. The sad truth is, today is one of those days when I'd have to dress UP to go to the stable.
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