Faking It

I'm afraid.

If I stop weighing myself, will I stop losing? If I stop writing down every bite that goes in my mouth, will I gain back all I've lost? If I stop caring, will I end up so fat that the local news will come tape the fire department cutting away a wall of my house to lift me out so that I can go to the hospital for an emergency, life-saving weight loss surgery? (Deep breath.)

I don't want to be afraid. I much prefer being optimistic and happy with small progress. I would much, much prefer to stop weighing myself every morning and several times during the day.

I have a morning weighing ritual. I always, always weigh myself very first thing in the morning--after I pee, but before I drink anything. I actually choose my pajamas for their light-weightedness.

I live in the desert. It's a dry heat, you know. I always lose a lot of water overnight and wake up desperate to pee and so thirsty my throat is sticky and sore. (And I'm always surprised when I go somewhere outside the desert to wake up without that feeling.) If I have to pee during the night--like when Kevin gets home from work and goes to bed at 4 a.m.--I will not drink unless I am so thirsty that I can't get back to sleep. If I must drink I take a swallow. I never drink my fill until after I've weighed myself. Ever.

That isn't normal. It can't be. Fuck. I'm a neurotic mess.

If I have a small gain from day to day, I automatically calculate when my next period is due. Within a week? I can relax. It's just PMS. Then I think back to what I ate the night before. Anything real salty? How about cheese or something else to activate my lactose intolerance? Something with too much grease that might have kicked in my IBS, even if I didn't go over my calories for the day? Do my hands feel swollen and stiff, like they do when I'm retaining water? If I can identify something--anything--then despite my weighing ritual, I don't let a gain ruin my day. I am a naturally optimistic person, and will reach for any excuse not to be upset all day.

If I show a loss? Forget about it. I'm full of light and rainbows and unicorns all day long. Until the next night, when I force myself to go back to bed thirsty so that I can get an "accurate weight" in the morning.

Damn. That's it. When Kevin wakes up, I'm asking him to hide the damn scales. (Yes, two scales. An digital one and a regular one. You know, for the sake of accuracy.)

The point is to stop the insanity of dieting, binging, compulsive overeating--and compulsive weighing. The point is to be sane. Losing weight is a side effect, not the main dish.

I'm going to have to fake that, until it's true.

What's your weighing ritual?