Tag: mental-health

The Scale Smashing–The Video!

Today is the first day of my year-long project: The Scale Diet.  As of today I am focusing on health instead of weight.  I am focusing on happy instead of “not good enough.”  I’m focusing on me, my children, my wonderful husband, my rewarding career, my exceptional family, and everything else in my life that is good.  I’m not going to lie, I’m terrified.  Being without my scale is like being a teenager: I have more freedom than I know what to do with, and I’m really afraid I will use that freedom for evil.

Recently, a friend and I had a small debate about whether or not this was a good idea.  She’s concerned for my well-being, she’s concerned that no scale means a year of gluttony and that I will slip backwards into fat like it’s an invisible hole in the earth threatening to swallow me at any moment.  Here was what I told her, and here is what I tell you:

I have been overweight for most of my life.  Yes, I’ve had some success, but for the most part I have always struggled, and that struggle has impeded my happiness.   I am turning 35 in less than a month, and I’m tired of answering to a scale.  I’m tired of not living my life, the one I have-which, coincidentally-is the one I always dreamed of.  When I was single, I dreamt that my life would consist of two little brown-haired girls and a fulfilling career that involved writing.  That’s all I ever wanted.  Now I have it.  And I plan on enjoying it, fully.

So I’m giving up my scale.  I choose instead to live a healthy lifestyle, to make the right food choices, to exercise regularly, and to not care what society thinks of me.  Here is the video, I hope you enjoy it!

Messing with Your Scale–Our First Giveaway!

This is a picture circulating on Facebook.  It is not my scale, but I had to show all of you, because I love what it represents.  What does this image mean to you?

I challenge all of you to do this.  Consider annihilating your precious maker, the scale.  Replace the judgement, the negativity, and the heaviness of your weight with a positive message.  Send in your pics and I will post them here.  Get creative, and you may WIN SOMETHING!!!!!

That’s right!  The Fat Girl is having our first giveaway!  A Hardcover copy of You on a Diet, the best-selling book coauthored by one of my favorite people…Dr. Oz.

Deadline is August 31st.  Send your pictures in today!  amye@amyearcher.com

Caught with My Pants Down

This morning, as I was weighing myself half-naked like I do every single morning of my life, my five-year-old daughter crept around the corner of the bathroom door and stood watching me as I stared down at the rather large number.

“Mommy, what are you doing?” she whispered.

I froze, not because I was startled by her presence, but because I was startled by her question.   I mean, I knew eventually one of them would see the scale, would see my morning ritual and ask questions, but I was stunned because, despite months of dreading this very question, I was completely unprepared as to how to answer it.

Mommy’s weighing herself honey because her self-esteem is wholly dependent on a number.  Mommy’s weighing herself because if she doesn’t, she will grow really, really fat again and Daddy will go away.  Mommy’s weighing herself because Mommy is an addict and if she doesn’t check in with her “sponsor” every morning, she will become overtaken by her disease once again.  

All of these thing sound ridiculous in my brain, yet I believe them as truth deep down in the middle of me.  This self-sabotaging dialogue is a train track running down the center of me, charging through and blowing to bits any healthy infrastructure I have erected.  Yet…My daughters are untainted.  They are like cotton: malleable, soft.   My problems with body image are a deep dark canyon, and right now, they are on the precipice of self-loathing.  My answer can either push them over, or save them from this agony.

“Mommy is weighing herself because I want to make sure I stay healthy and strong.”

She wrinkles her nose for a second as if she is sniffing out the validity of my statement, and within minutes her attention  turns to the dogs and she is gone, chasing them up the stairs and into the ripples of her sister’s laughter.

I don’t know if I said the right words.  I don’t know the truth myself.  I don’t know if anything I say can make a difference.  When I think about it, my parents never said anything about weight.  They set a good example and exercised and took care of themselves.  So, I guess the question then becomes,  how did I get here?  And how do I keep my own daughters from this place?