Who's afraid of the big, bad. . . scale?

Almost all women share a universal fear of the bathroom scale. The numbers on a scale can turn intelligent, sane women into irrational, crazy ladies. Men, I can’t speak for you, but I imagine that some of you are tortured by that little rectangular demon as well.

It doesn’t matter if the world thinks you look great. There is a number in your head that you want to weigh. That’s your “magic” number, or maybe you call it your “feel good” weight. When you see “it” in digital numbers, staring up at you, the angels will sing and you will skip through the day, light as air, like nothing in the world can bring you down. It’s true.

So what’s your number? I know you’re thinking of it. And if it makes you smile, then you might be “there" right now. If you’re frowning to yourself, well, I know that you’re beating your self up, right at this moment, for that hand full of Kettle Chips you had this afternoon while standing in the pantry.

I personally hate the scale and the power it holds over me. All of us in our right minds know that our weight can fluctuate fairly significantly through the course of a week. But that doesn’t stop us from seeing “the number” and letting it ruin a perfectly fine day. Which is why I decided quite a long while ago, to throw the awful thing deep into my closet and only take it out when I am certain I will like what it says.

I told my friend once that the key is to step on the scale after a good stomach flu – or seriously terrible hangover. Look down and see that wonderfully low, dehydrated number. . . burn it in to your memory and decide that is what you will weigh until you’re dumb enough to step on the dang thing again!

I am ignorance is bliss kind of girl. I don’t need to know I gained 2 pounds. I really don’t. You can’t even see 2 pounds on a body. So, I have found something that works far better than a scale for keeping my weight in check. I try on jeans. Yes, it’s as simple as that. We all have the pair of jeans in our closet that are a bit tighter than the rest of the pile. That pair is my “scale.” Currently they are a pair that I don’t even wear any more (when I can, that is) because I’ve had them so long.

I wake up in the morning – not all mornings mind you. Just mornings when I am feeling like I’ve been eating like crap all week and hoping it hasn’t caught up to me yet. I walk straight to my closet and put on my scale jeans. Sometimes I am pleasantly surprised. Sometimes I peel them off in disgust and vow to do better this week. But either way I don’t see the little fluctuations in my weight. I don’t need to. They tell me all I need to know about the size of my body. And remember, it’s the number that makes us so crazy.

So, find those little jeans in your closet. You know which ones. Dub them your “new scale.” They won’t be completely forgiving, but they won’t spit ugly numbers at you in blaring red, neon lights either.