This is not a scale

This is a trap.
This is going in Time Out.

It can come out when I no longer imbue it with the power to determine my mood.

I know who I am.
I know how I feel.

Yet time after time I forfeit that power— I hand it over to a number that tells me only my gravitational mass.

I spoke with my brilliant and wonderful therapist who asked me both: a) what I needed to do for my freedom and b) what I was willing to do today.

I hope that one day I will truly be free from external validation. That I will not only know, but trust myself. That a stupid scale won’t have the power to ruin my day.

In the meantime, I can zap the scale of that power by not stepping onto it.

I wish I could say I chucked it in the bin but I wasn’t ready for that. It would’ve been performative of a recovery I haven’t yet unlocked.

So instead I put it in my husband’s trunk. Progress, not perfection.