I threw away the scale

Dear Delyara, I weighed myself every morning for twenty-two years. The number determined breakfast, mood, clothing, exercise, and whether I believed I deserved dinner. During eating-disorder treatment, my therapist asked me to stop keeping a scale at home. I hid it in the garage instead. For six months, I occasionally weighed myself secretly. Eventually, I told her. We worked through why uncertainty about my weight felt more dangerous than the behavior itself. Yesterday, I took the scale to the recycling center. Before throwing it into the metal bin, I almost stepped on it one final time. I did not. Today, I woke and automatically walked toward the bathroom corner where it used to be. The empty space frightened me for several seconds. Then I got dressed and ate breakfast without receiving a number first. Breaking a habit this old did not feel liberating immediately. It felt like beginning a day without asking an object whether I had permission to inhabit my own body.