Worth the weight

I haven't talked about food issues/weight in a while. I've been at a relatively comfortable plateau, mentally and physically. After I went off the pill in summer, I was nervous about how my body would react. I hadn't had a "real" (non-pill-inspired) period in years. But, lo and behold, it returned, regularly, which amazes me so much that you'd think I'd join hippie women in circles, giving praise to the moon or whatever.

For a long time, I wasn't weighing myself. The director at my treatment center said that 3 important parts of recovery are: Keeping a journal, reaching out to others, and not getting on a scale. I considered this Gospel for years. Then, I got on a self-management kick, frustrated with anorexia sneaking back into my life, and unable to find professionals who didn't suck. This was back in 2005 or so. I got a scale. It didn't have terribly detrimental effects, but it didn't have positive effects either. I got rid of it. A couple years ago, I got a new one (another self-management kick). It disappeared at one point (or, actually, I told Larry to hide it). I found it at another point. I forgot about it for a while. Then I remembered it again. I started weighing myself once a week. I didn't have much emotion about it, and I say that with total honesty. I told myself I was just looking to stay on track (without having to trek to a nutritionist or doctor to relay the information). And, I was just plain curious, though sometimes I think curiosity kills not only the cat, but the chick in recovery from anorexia. Lately, I don't stress about the scale, but I do wonder why I care what I weigh at all. Does it matter? Really?

Anyway, something interesting has happened: My weight's been going up. Gradually, slowly, but up. It's actually higher than it's been in years.

Something not-so-interesting also happened: This bothered me.

It's not so much the number that bothered me, but the fact that 1) I wasn't actively trying to gain weight, and 2) I'm not at all motivated to make it go down. I feel like my body is just doing its thing and I seem to have little interest in stopping it. I suppose this is a "good" thing, recovery-wise, but it's a hard thing, identity-wise. I'm accustomed to being driven to control my body, but I just can't seem to care so much anymore. Food blogs bore me to tears. I have no patience for recipe searches. The "health and fitness" articles get nothing out of me, except a slow eyeroll. What happened to the Kim I knew and didn't really love?

The truth is that gaining weight is good for me. Carrie Arnold did a great post about target weights that got me thinking about my ideal body weight (a topic I try to sidestep regularly). I was at my ideal body weight, but just barely, when I left treatment in 2001. A break-up in 2002 sent me down, not a lot, but enough to be sort of precarious. I never really regained that lost weight for any solid period of time. And I'm still not at 100% of my ideal body weight (as I know it; it could very well be higher now that I'm older). Before this recent gain, I've been in the 90% zone for the last, oh, 7 or 8 years. I still get cold more easily than others around me. I'm already at high risk for osteoporosis since the women in my family are naturally small-boned. And Larry would probably appreciate some more cushion for the pushin'. In short, there are good things about more weight. It's worth it to me to gain. I deserve to be as healthy as I can be.

Another thing: Historically, I have needed a specific and relatively high number of calories to gain weight. I'm not eating this amount. I don't count calories diligently every day, but I have a ballpark estimate, and I know I'm eating at the low end of my "maintenance amount." So, what gives? Well, I don't think my caloric needs decreased sharply upon turning 30. And, contrary to anorexia's arguments, I don't think changing my exercise routine (meaning, not doing it if I don't want to) has much to do with it. What I do think is that the estrogen in the pill used to give me a boost. I think my hormone levels are still pretty low right now, as my body weight is still not ideal. This is just a hypothesis. I have no science to back up this theory. It's just my instinct.

So, what is my conclusion after seeing higher numbers on the scale? Eat more. As an experiment. I just want to see what happens, if I start to feel better. I've been a little blah lately. My appetite has been low, my energy has been low, my sex drive has been low. These are all things that can be related to something else being low -- body weight. I do wonder, "But what if I keep gaining?" I used to think, "Oh well, I can always go back. I know how to restrict." But, honestly, I've come to the realization that I don't have it in me to restrict or lose weight. I have zero desire to go back. There is just no enthusiasm in me for that. That's okay with me, it's just...different.

Do you have a scale in your life? Is it a loving relationship? Abusive? What does "the number" mean to you?

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Today's gratitude:
1. It's Friday!
2. New season of "Project Runway" to watch on DVR tonight :)
3. My splitting headache from the beginning of the day has made a gracious exit.
4. This weekend should be nice and relaxing: Therapy tomorrow, massage on Sunday.
5. Thanks to those of you who checked out my short story :) If you want to read a little piece I wrote about my relationship with my muse, check out The Writer's Inner Journey.