My First Weigh-In in Six Months

My last weigh-in at my psychiatrist’s office was February 24, 2020 and I was 168.6 pounds. Since we’ve switched over to telemedicine, I’ve been in the dark about any changes since then. I had my first weigh-in on my new scale on August 14, 2020.

With great trepidation, I stepped onto the seemingly delicate digital scale. It was first thing in the morning (well, afternoon for me since I get up at 2pm), I had peed as much as possible, and I was completely nude. As I stepped onto the scale, I was surprised at how light I felt. I didn’t produce the same impact—the same groaning of the equipment as I had anticipated. I knew the number wouldn’t be in line with my weigh-ins at the office (different scale, no clothes or shoes, no breakfast or coffee beforehand), but it would certainly tell me something. My heart pounded as the numbers flashed and finally stopped: 154.3. That’s a 14.3 pound difference in 6 months, so probably about 10 pounds lost, give or take, with all things considered. This was my lowest weight since a few years ago when I was on Adderall and got down to 152. I was thrilled. But I also didn’t want to let myself get too excited. I knew there would be a psychological impact, and I didn’t know what that would be.

Over the next couple of weeks, I started having graphic binge fantasies: dozens of donuts, endless Reese’s peanut butter cups, bags of peanut butter M&Ms. I wondered how I could get them, and whether it would ever be enough. I headed straight for some online OA meetings. I had to be ready to go to any lengths to keep from going through with a binge. But I couldn’t stop obsessing over it. This went on for 2-3 weeks or so.

It began to register that this probably had something to do with my weigh-in. I thought about Carol Munter’s writing about the subconscious backlash women often experience after losing weight. I thought about the fat/thin fantasies that help reveal your unexpected negative associations with thinness. I tried to think about what this new weight meant to me.

In my mind, I was no longer “fat.” I was a pretty average-sized, or “normal-sized” person. I was around this weight in college, and then when I was in my twenties performing in plays in Cape Cod and RI. I was around this weight after a 20 pound gain following a sexual assault at work and sexual harassment at massage school. I fought against those 20 pounds then, but they wouldn’t budge. I think in my mind they were protecting me from those things happening again.

My February weight of 168.6 pounds was pretty close to 170. I have totally different associations with being that weight. That was my weight after I left OA, when I switched from working in musical theater to singing Wagner and hoping for an operatic career. I thought there would be more respect in opera, more money. I traveled to Germany a few times at that weight. I sang a lot, coaching and auditioning. I was constantly on a diet. I was occasionally asked if I was pregnant.

The difference between these two identities (150 pounds vs. 170 pounds) is far more significant to me than number on a scale. 170 was safer and more respectable, and a heavier body went with my heavier singing voice. 150 was more active, less grounded. At 150 I was dancing, bouncing around from place to place, trying new things.

I remember being a lot sicker, less mentally healthy at 170. But here I was at 154.3, just as sick as I had been in the past at 170. Would people think I was better because I was thinner? Would people be relieved that I didn’t seem as sick because I wasn’t so heavy? Would they expect more of me because I’d lost weight?

It’s no wonder my subconscious wanted to binge and gain that weight back. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was all better. I managed to stay on my diet and exercise regime, and it got easier the more I acknowledged and worked through these thoughts. But just as my mind was settling down, no longer obsessing about bingeing, it was time for another monthly (or once every cycle) weigh-in. (I’d decided to weigh in on the 12th day of my cycle, which is usually about 26 days in total.)

On September 11, 2020 I stepped on the scale again: 150.3. Four pounds down. A big jump for less than a month, and I waited to see if there would be backlash this time. But there wasn’t. The binge thoughts didn’t return, and I went on with my diet and exercise as usual. I attribute it to being in the same psychological “weight identity.” I wasn’t struggling with all those different associations this time.

Today, October 5, I weighed in for the third time: 147.2. I’m in the 140s now, which I haven’t been for about 10 years. Will this next change send me spiraling? We’ll have to wait and see. It does make me start wondering how much weight I actually want to lose. I don’t want to create an unsustainable situation for myself. Do I need to start eating more, eating as much as I want to be eating for the long term? It seems like a good idea at this point, but I’m also keen to lose more weight, and I don’t want to slow that down just yet. I’m apprehensive about more weight loss, and yet the desire for more weight loss never seems to end.