Weighty

It started out okay. I lost seven pounds my first week and stared at the scale like it held the secret to life. I was eager to step back on the scale the following week, ready to see that number drop again. Two more pounds. Then four more. I dropped almost 20 pounds in a couple of weeks and was on top of the world. I looked great, felt great and felt like I’d gained the upper hand on my eating problems. Weight Watchers was working. That scale was my friend, a companion who patted me on the back each week for keeping up the good work. I looked forward to Fridays, to seeing those numbers go down as my confidence went up.

And then it wasn’t. I plateaued at 21 pounds — I was looking to lose 50 — and went into a free fall of self loathing and self doubt. Why couldn’t I keep up the weight loss? What was I doing wrong? Why am I such a failure at everything I try to do to lose weight?

I went to the weekly meetings where our team leader would cajole us into sharing our successes. I stayed quiet in the back of the room, feeling like I had nothing to contribute. Our leader wanted to set a goal for us. Lose a pound a week. A pound a week, that’s all. One pound. And we would add up all the pounds we lost together and map it across a chart, as a way of marking our collective progress.

I went back the next week, got on the scale and became immediately dismayed to realized I’d gained a half pound. I failed at the small goal that was set up for me. Others at the meeting were celebrating their losses and when our leader asked who met their goal, my hand stayed down while others gleefully raised theirs. I wasn’t contributing to our shared goal and I felt like I let down not just myself, but everyone in the room.

I missed the next Friday’s meeting, mostly on purpose. I ate badly during the week because I felt bad about myself. My attitude was “if I can’t even lose a pound a week, why bother?” and “If I don’t get on the scale, it won’t matter.”

That scale who was once my best friend was now my sworn enemy. My reason for going to the meetings I didn’t really enjoy — to boost my ego and determination when I got on the scale — was gone. I had sabotaged myself and was slowly gaining my weight back. I feared going to the meeting. Friday morning would come and my anxiety would ratchet up. I’d spend all morning debating with myself about going to the 1:00 meeting and by the time 12:45 rolled around I already knew I was going to walk past that door (the meetings were in my office building) and out to my car, where I’d take myself out to lunch instead. Sometimes I’d just go to the deli and get a salad. Sometimes I’d go to Taco Bell. Either way I felt guilty, felt like the scale was waiting there for me to either congratulate or mock me. And it was all mock these days.

I know when the slide happened. It was when the leader set that goal for us. She challenged us. She goaded us. She made the scale an instrument of anxiety. Sure, before the challenge we were already at the whim of the numbers but now it was different; I wasn’t just accountable to myself, but to others who would want to know if I met our collective goal. I was impeding our progress across that chart. Everyone was better off if I wasn’t there.

I went into a depression at the same time this was happening and I’m sure it was all connected. My depression and anxiety — disorders that have plagued my me whole life — are often tied in to how I’m feeling about myself at any given moment and because of that scale I was feeling miserable. And, of course, the worse I felt, the more I would eat because my relationship with food is an unhealthy one.

Yesterday I went with a friend to lunch instead of the Weight Watchers meeting. When I got back to work the meeting was breaking up and I ran into our group leader as I was headed toward the elevator. She looked at me, sort of dismayed, and said she missed seeing me at the meetings. I immediately felt self-conscious and pulled my sweater tight around my body so she couldn’t tell I’d gained back the weight I lost. I stood there wading in guilt while she asked if I’d be back next week. I lied. I said yes. Because I didn’t have the guts to tell her that her challenge and that scale had ruined me.

I think if I just kept cruising along without the pressure of meeting a weekly goal, not to mention a collective goal, I might have done better. But the prospect of being weighed every week, the specter of that number on the scale, frightened me into giving up. Rather than facing that number every week and the frustration and guilt that went with it, I hid from the scale, hid from my fellow weight watchers. It was easier to just eat alone and be ignorant of my numbers and not face the group, who were all losing their pound a week.

I’m surrounded by coworkers who are constantly talking about food and points. They are always adding, measuring, sharing which foods have the least points. They include me in the conversations because they assume I’m still doing the program, but I’m not, and I play along with them as if I am because I don’t want them to know I’m making peace with being overweight. I just want to eat without every single thing I’m putting in my mouth having to be accounted for in numbers. I want to eat without feeling like I’m ruining it for everyone when I do. I don’t want to feel guilty about eating a hamburger at the diner, I don’t want the Thursday night anxiety that comes with knowing I’ll be weighed and held accountable Friday afternoon. I want to not be a nervous wreck about food

Weight Watchers made me aware of my shortcomings. It made the struggle to lose weight feel like it carried with it connotations I didn’t care to entertain. I didn’t like my relationship with the scale less than I like my relationship with food. I hated the shared goal, the feeling like I was holding back everyone from meeting a challenge. And I really hated how the leader made it sound like it should be so easy. It’s not. Losing weight is not easy, nor is keeping it off. It’s a struggle, mentally and physically and should be treated as such.

A mantra at the meetings was “beyond the scale,” but by putting that challenge out there, our leader made it all about the scale, and that was my downfall. I know that my issues with weight and food are mine and mine alone and I don’t blame anyone else for my being overweight, but I do blame the mindset of my specific Weight Watchers meetings for ruining something that was working. The instant she made it about the scale was the instant that scale became my enemy and I retreated from it.

I’ll figure out something that works for me on my own. Maybe I’m just not meant to do this in a group dynamic. But for now, I’m at an acceptance stage with my weight. I’m tired of feeling guilty about everything I eat or even think about eating. I’m tired of being self-conscious about my body. I’m tired of being judged for those things, of laying awake at night adding up the points of everything I ate during the day, of feeling like a disappointment to my coworkers. Weight loss groups are not for everyone, and I found out the hard way they’re not for me. I know this program is a successful one for a lot of people and good for them for finding something that works. I’ll keep looking.