I absolutely despise scales. Which is why, when my boyfriend recently ordered one online (for himself, not yours truly) without telling me... I admit that I got a little upset. I was upset because I actually hadn't shared a home with a scale in more than 10 years—and I knew that having one in the bathroom would make weighing myself nearly impossible to resist.
So what is my issue with this seemingly innocent device? I've never been overweight, never had an eating disorder, and for the most part, have a healthy attitude towards food and my body. I can honestly say that I have never been on a diet in my life. Sure, I have the occasional bout of feeling puffy or insecure but let's be honest, who doesn't? Even so, my insecurities are less about wanting to look like a supermodel and more about knowing that I've been eating too much cheese and not putting in enough time at the gym.
Since high school, my weight has never fluctuated more than 15 pounds; in the past 5 years, the fluctuation has been about 5 to 10 (sometimes this 5 pound difference will happen in less than 24 hours!). The bottom line is that as an athlete, I know what my 'healthy' weight is. I also know that the more I work out, run, lift weights, run up stairs, whatever—the more I tend to weigh, as I put on muscle very easily. THIS is precisely why the scale is dangerous for me. Because if I'm training extra hard and putting in more hours on the elliptical or stair master, my legs and butt will ultimately get 'thicker' with muscle. Religiously jumping on the scale and seeing the number creep up puts negative thoughts into my head where positive ones should be.
I LIKE my strong legs and my not-so- tiny butt. They're the products of 20 years of running and sweating. They work for me. And hey, as long as my pants fit and I feel good, I don't need a scale to kill my buzz.