i recently went to the doctor for that dreaded annual appointment. it’s standard to be weighed at the beginning, of course. i honestly hadn’t weighed myself in a few weeks. i get burned out on it and sometimes even obsessive.
i wasn’t prepared for the nurse to be a complete bitch. she was totally short with me, practically ordering me on the scale with grunts and tired sighs. (i didn’t do anything, i swear.) the scale was one of the old school manual ones with the chunks of weights in rows at the top. so the nurse just started moving the weights, seemingly annoyed. she threw the big ones to the right until she got them where she wanted them. then shoved one back. on to the smaller ones… she started moving them quickly. she slowed down near the end, clicking the weights to the right one by one. she took her sweet time finding the right weight by clicking the last little weight back and forth about four times. i think she was messing with me. i wanted to yell at her, “bitch, just find the number and be done with it!”.
then she said the number out loud. in front of other women in the office. older and chubbier women, but still. i’m sure she said it in her normal annoyed voice, but in my mind, it sounded like she had yelled it across the office for all to hear. i wanted to punch her in the throat right there. i wanted to kick the scale to the floor like a rock star with their speakers on stage. and just exit the building with a “i’m out, bitches.” but i didn’t…
all of this went down in less than 30 seconds, but it felt like 30 minutes. nearly naked, i sulked in the little room she led me to. fortunately, the doctor saw me right away so i was distracted away from negatively focusing on that stupid number.
that number is smaller than it’s been in years, but it is still very powerful. it’s not where i want it to be, but it’s better than it was. two steps forward, one step back. i think it will be like that for me forever. i’m convinced that i’m never going to be “done”.
i am not going to weigh myself this week. i’m not prepared for that number, whatever it may be. not after i indulged every single craving during the week of thanksgiving. i am going to wait until next week or the week after. when i am back into my routine. when i’m not shoving pie into my pie hole every few hours. when i’m focused again.