I never should have gotten on the scale today. What was I
thinking?
It’s been a quiet, contemplative couple of days. House chores have
gotten done. Dinners with family have been enjoyed. A couple phone chats with
friends and a tremendous amount of fun reading, work administrivia, and
soul-clearing have filled these brisk then sunny days. I’ve been exploring the
inner life and external realities of a lower-carb diet. Not for the traditional
“new-year’s resolution’ diet thing, but to listen once again to my hunger
patterns, mental relationship to breads and pasta. To explore a couple
different kinds of recipes with kale, spinach, berries and the like. Body
movements and opening began again at the gym, and a couple sessions at home opened
up, with various levels of intensity—some playful, some intentional. Life was feeling good and productive.
Then the scale. I know that strength-training means one doesn’t lose weight,
potentially even gains weight. I know my core and upper body strength are more
developed than they've ever been in my life. I love walking by the power-tower
thing, putting down whatever I’m carrying, and hanging on it or jumping up to
play with leg raises or whatever. Whatever suits my fancy. But my weight is as
high as it’s been in probably five years!!!! Stepping on the scale, and in one fell swoop, my overall sense
of fitness, enjoyment of my body-movements, excitement about my body-listening and
hunger patterns went flying out the window. Seemingly without choice (as I
experienced it anyway), I careened back into the body-censor and
self-flagellation that comes with fearing “I’m too heavy.”
Goodness gracious I get bored with this. Anyone who reads
these things must as well?
En route home from a day’s bodywork-learning, I stopped off
at the grocery to get just the deli salads I’d been craving. I enjoyed a sample
of the ‘buffalo chicken dip’ with a chip, to save myself from buying the whole
thing. And home I returned, to a loving dog, a home perfectly-blissfully quiet,
and spaciousness just right for enjoying a little workout before a light meal.
Without agenda or “workout” to accomplish, I moved in some of the ways I’ve
learned, played a little with the power-tower, and eased into a totally
different awareness of my body.
I’m so very thankful to be able to move as I do, to smile at
the challenge I’ve selected, and move patiently in the small ways that will
build to a greater sense of freedom about my own sense of strength. I don’t
know if I’ll make it by mid-March, but the journey so far has been just what
the doctor—me, myself, and I—ordered. Today, by end of day, I learned I could
simply move as it felt good, increase the intensity of exertion as felt
good, and know that my shoulders and arms were weary enough for the day.
I ran to the phone, to catch an old friend’s call, and
noticed my reflection in the dark-lit window panes. A good form. A fortunate woman.
Fuck the scale.
