The Day I Found Out My Weight.

The day I found out my weight it had been exactly seven months and three weeks since I had seen the number. And the funny thing is, I was not supposed to find out that day, in fact, I didn’t even want to. I didn’t wake up prepared to know the number that the scale has read for about a few months now. A number that I had never been. A number that I didn’t really care about anymore because it no longer defines me. I was not mentally or emotionally prepared to know, but I found out and now I know and you know what? I’m okay with it.

The day I found out was the day I gave blood. I was hoping that the topic of weight would be avoided. Part of me hoped that they would assume that I weighed enough to give blood while the eating disorder part of me decided that would be a terrible assumption on their part because that would mean that I weighed too much. However, that thought came and went pretty quickly because I did not give it any power so I went with the punches. It seemed pretty promising at first, I had accomplished three fourths of the paper work, gotten my iron tested and my blood pressure taken. Everything was going along well and I was feeling pretty confident that the weight question would not appear. But then the nurse asked me, “so do you know how much you weigh?”

My heart sink for a minute because I knew what was coming. I replied that I didn’t, because I was not supposed to know at the moment. He then asked me if it would be okay if he weighed me without me looking and of course I said yes…what else was I supposed to say?

So he weighed me, in front of people which I surprisingly did not mind. But it was way different than my dietitian weighing me, probably because I am used to that by now.

So that happened and he recorded it on the paperwork. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. It was probably a mixture between self conscious,embarrassed, and anxious. Honestly though, I was just more concerned with the fact that I did not want to see my weight and so I did my best to not look at the scale or the paper.

As he was looking over the rest of my paperwork he asked what I assumed was coming, “so why are you not supposed to know your weight?” 

I am not really sure why I answered his question with a question, it just sorta came out, but first I asked him if he really wanted to know. And after he shook his head yes I replied with the truth and told him it was because I was recovering from an eating disorder.

I am not sure what he said after that, probably because I could only focus on how flushed my face and whole body had become because of the whole situation, but he commended me and told me I looked very healthy. Now, a few months ago that would have been one of the worst things to say to me. Why? Because immediately my eating disorder would have taken it as I look bigger, fat, and who knows what else. But this time it only caused a twinge of uncomfortableness in my chest and a forced thank you. But in the end, it didn’t really bug me at all.

He then handed my my paperwork and told me to look over it to make sure that it was all correct. By this time, the weight scenario was not at the forefront of my mind so I began scanning the paper for errors. Soon enough my eyes scanned over my weight…for the first time in seven months I knew my weight.

I know for a fact that if I had found out a few months back when I finished increasing my internal and external response to seeing the number would have been, well, probably would have ended in tears to say the least. But when I saw the number for the first time in a while I felt a little defeated, but at the same time I felt shocked. Oh, and not to mention the fact that I was irritated because I thought a blind weight would be more clear in the fact that just because I didn’t look when you weighed me does not mean I can’t see it on the paper…can I get an amen? ha.

But anyways.

I was shocked because if I could have guessed my weight, I probably would have guessed lower. With the redistribution process going well and just based on how my body feels I would have aimed for a lower number than what I read. My initial reaction in my head was something along the lines of oh my gosh I gained that much! But then the rational side of me was like wow you would have never guessed that, you feel amazing, and you are perfectly healthy and at a perfect weight range.

I would be lying if I said that finding out my weight without being prepared did rock me a little, because it did. But it was nothing compared to what it could have been a few months ago. It only bugged me for a little bit the rest of the day, and it didn’t lead me to restrict or go into any disordered behavior.

I have come to accept that it’s okay to know, it’s okay to be my weight, it’s okay to be healthy. Now I know, and there’s nothing I can do about it except for move forward in recovery just like I was before. And to be honestly that is all I want to do. Because the number on the scale does not hold power like it used to.

I am healthy and the number does not define me.