As you are now aware, I am in the process of sharing my final thoughts with the world, one personal message at a time. This message contains my final words and thoughts to those who can’t stop weighing themselves on their bathroom scales, day in, and day out.
Dear friends who are obsessed with that ever-changing number,
For the love of everything you hold dear… STEP AWAY FROM THE SCALE.
Walk into your bathroom, right now, pick the damn thing up, and shove it into the back of some closet in some room you never use.
Of all the things in all the world for you to literally hand 100% of your self-esteem to, you’re going to hand it to some number?
You’re going to let some number let you enjoy your day or not?
You’re going to let some number decide whether or not you will be depressed today?
You’re going to let some number dictate how confident you will be until tomorrow?
You’re going to let some number define just how lovable you are?
You’re going to let some number tell you if you’re worth something as a human?
Really?!
A NUMBER?!
A stupid, ridiculous, pointless, absolutely barbaric number that does not care about your feelings at all?
A dishonest, lying piece of shit number that conveniently doesn’t bother to tell you that your cells are more full of water today or that your muscle mass has changed?
Really?
A number?
Right now, before you even finish reading this post, do yourself the biggest favor of the next decade and go grab that thing and shove it some place where you will onlypull it out for true weighing emergencies such as checking your luggage or killing rodents of unusual size.
There are so many inventions this world could have done without. Single use plastics… Automatic weapons… Tanning beds… Crocs… Asbestos… And way up there toward the top of the list should be the bathroom scale.
How many people now have become naturally obsessed with new health goals and new ways of healthy living only to give up way too quickly after some stupid number lied and told them they weren’t making any progress?
How many people now have lacked the confidence to put themselves out there because some stupid number told them they aren’t worthy enough to have whatever it is they want most?
How many people now have cried themselves to sleep, or cried themselves to work, or cried themselves all the way to the nearest donut shop because some stupid number told them they were worthless pieces of garbage who don’t deserve happiness?
Those questions were only semi-rhetorical. I’m serious. Try to come up with an actual number.
Millions? No. Way more. Hundreds of millions now, at least.
If you need a number to tell you when you are allowed to be happy, then dang… Keep your scale right where it is and step on it every single day.
If you need a number to tell you that you are living a healthy lifestyle, then I honestly feel sorry for your lack of ability to think for yourself.
If you need a number to tell you just how attractive you are to others at the moment, then you probably deserve the shallowness you will find with such a belief.
If you need a number to tell you you’re a human that is WORTH something today, then honey, you need to fill your life with some fulfilling things.
Look. I get it. I was addicted to my scale all the way until the digits read “OL” instead of giving me a number. I got so fat, my digital scale couldn’t even give me a reading anymore. It just said, “OL,” and didn’t even bother telling me what it meant.
The funny thing is, it wasn’t seeing the numbers all the way up to “OL” that inspired me to finally lose weight. It was the inability to see any number on the scale at all that scared the living bejeezus out of me. I had to make sure to never see those ugly two letters on my scale again.
I did lose weight after that. Finally, the scale showed me “349.” Whew. A number. I rested easier knowing that I was at least kind of valuable again. The whole “OL” thing pushed me to go get a gastric bypass, which only made the number addiction take hold like you wouldn’t believe.
I got more addicted than a crack addict watching that number go down.
And down.
And down.
And down.
And down.
Eventually it read 192, which at 6’4″ and with a bone density like mine was not healthy in any way, shape or form. My doctor literally told me at that point, “gain weight or die.”
“But, but, but… Look at that number! That beautiful, sexy, glorious number!” I hadn’t seen such a beautiful number since I was weighed in seventh grade at the doctor’s office and I secretly took one leg off the scale.
Ever since I was a child that number was everything to me. I starved myself if it went over a certain number. As an adult, I stopped dating any time it went over a certain number. I lived and breathed for that stupid, outrageous, lying, manipulative number.
Then one day, I looked at the number, and I realized something. That number had never done anything but hurt me.
I was in an abuse cycle with it, and it kept hurting me, damaging me, and slowly killing my spirit and sense of self, only to follow it up with an occasional, “c’mon baby, you can’t quit me, I love you! Here is something real nice for you today.”
That day was the day I first stowed my scale, and let me tell you that life has been infinitely better for me and my self esteem ever since. I began to enjoy life, and enjoy food, and enjoy my own existence, without some number telling me it was okay.
If my clothes get tight now, I eat better and exercise more. That’s it.
If I start feeling too out of shape, I don’t go step on some measurement device to tell me what I already know, I listen to how my body feels, and I try to make the proper adjustments.
I don’t care if it takes a long time or a short time to get there, I always get there eventually by simply tweaking things here or there.
It’s just that now I never have to miss an incredible dessert when it is offered because I never have to fear what some abusive number will scream at me in the morning if I do.
You onboard with me yet?
Sigh. You still haven’t gone and stashed your scale, have you…
Hey. I know it’s hard to leave your abuser. But you can always pull it out again, just like you can always go back to any bad relationship you had a hard time quitting. Just do yourself a favor and try it for me for one month, then two, then for a year, then for life when you see how incredible it is to never look at that stupid number again.
Stop stepping on the scale immediately. Put it out of sight and out of mind, and start listening to what your body and mind are telling you every day instead. Sometimes your body needs carrots for a snack. Sometimes your mind needs that chocolate lava cake they are serving at your favorite rib joint.
Dan Pearce | Dan Pearce Was Here (formerly Single Dad Laughing)
