it's alright... i've been on vacation

i went to the docs the other day. i was faced with that obligatory check-in: the scale. i'm not sure why they need to know my weight. it's not like it helps their diagnosis. after this incident, i've decided to wage a war. i refuse the scale on a matter of principle. that torchure devise is the cause of many a woman's unhappiness. i loathe how a simple number can make or break a day or worse, self-esteem.

i approached it and thought about whether or not to keep my shoes on. i wouldn't be knowing the number so who cares if my shoes added 5 pounds. last minute, i decided to take them off.

i haven't known "my number" in quite a while. after being sick for so long, it wasn't worth distressing over. i needed to rest and there would be inevitable weight gain so i just didn't want to see the number. that number would only agitate and frustrate. it would bring no good to my mandatory bed rest.

i stepped on the scale and said to the assistant, "i don't want to know." i then turn my back so i can't see the numbers. it must have been difficult to understand what i was communicating because after a few moments she states, "you weight ---"

no shit. the dumb beeotch told me my weight. you'd think the whole, "don't tell me" and back to the torchure device was pretty clear but somehow, she no comprende. (she was white)

"what's WRONG with you? why would you do that?" i then cried. it's a number i haven't seen in over 10 years. she tried to assure me that i look great but that wasn't the point. i don't want a number to define me. and in that moment, it was really hard not to.

when i got sick, i purposely gained weight to see if that would help rebuild my immune and endrocrine systems. but after a while, the bed rest and the willful engaging in eating and drinking as i may, pushed the agreed upon number further. it was okay. there was nothing i could do except accept that my body needed time to heal. exercise would only stress and hinder my healing process. i decided the more pleasure i had, the happier i'd be, and the quicker i'd heal.

i'm lucky enough to work with eating disorders every day. that keeps it real fo shizzle. there is no hurried weight loss. starving yourself and skipping meals is a really really bad idea. in fact, it only works against weight loss. forcing exercise on a weak body is straight up abuse. and the body will let you know sooner or later that you're being an asshole to it. in the end, nothing happens fast and only balancing your diet will help achieve your goals. so you must love yourself and your body. you must accept it for what it is right now. because any kind of hateful resistance will impede your process and more so, make you miserable from the inside out. this will take time and being my body's caretaker is the only way to go about this.

i heard someone utter the word "vacation" yesterday and it clicked. i hear there is an inevitable 5 pound weight gain when you go on a cruise. so why not with my 6 month magic carpet ride to health? reportedly on cruises there is decadent food and deliciousness abounds. when you go to a wedding or to the bahama's you find yourself say, "why yes, i WILL have another piece of cake. thank you! and put another beer on my tab." you should. you're on vacation.

so i've made peace with my weight. i've been chillaxin on the high seas of fluffy down comfortables and ambling on television wavelengths. i've said "NO thank you" to taking the stairs or going for that early AM bike ride. i've enjoyed everything i love and then some more... thai, indian, nutella, sushi, brownies, red wine, fro-yo, any other random thing that tickles my fancy and oh yea, nutella. i've slept 12-14 hours on a regular basis. i've spent many an all weekend in bed. i've cried. i've laughed. i've gotten massages and pedicures. i've flirted with cute boys. triathlon may be long forgotten for now and my waist line may have expanded but it's alright...

i've been on vacation.