“Dear Mr. Scale, can I be honest with you for a moment? Our together times really don’t do much for me. I actually dread our appointments. And when you bring your friend Miss tape measure, well she really does a number on me.”

I.hate.this. Have you ever had a conversation with your bathroom scale?

Maybe I am a tad insane, as a gold-star member of the Chubby Club, but mine actually talks back. There have been so many weeks when I walked away with so many weighty disappointments. I foolishly thought the scale would give me some good new. As as if my tight pants weren’t enough of an indicator, making it obvious that I had taken in more calories than I expended for the week.

So why did I weigh faithfully? Why did I submit to it’s mental abuse, when at the end of our encounters, I walked away ashamed?

My love hate relationship is probably something you won’t understand. It’s my chubby mentality.

I have looked at these measuring tools as if they were the enemy, when they sneer and judge me. They torment and remind me of my failures. At one point in our long-term relationship, I actually gave one the boot in hopes to break it’s lurking judgmental jeers. It’s hate-laced accuracy didn’t weigh me with much grace or mercy.

What I truly hate is that it stole my self-worth.

Perhaps I am tad insane.

In this journey of losing weight, I confess that I have let my measurements, both around and down, plus the tipping-the-scale-poundage define who I am. I fell into the trap of letting the scale write my attitude and darken my opinion of myself. My self-esteem rose and fell with the numbers.

This chubs was daily defeated from an inanimate object.

One day God asked me a question…”Why do you look at the scales view of you over My view of you?”

That knocked me to my knees. I swallowed hard as I swallowed His hard truth.

With tears of confession, God’s healing forgiveness released the demanding dictatorship of that dumb-black-idol that only cared about my numbers. It was on that day I stopped being a hater of the tools that only measured God’s beauty program in me.

I still have regret about so much time wasted hanging on to the up-and-down numbers on the display, but this second time around I am putting less emphasis on man-made measurements….and more of …

…weighing my heart on God’s measure of me.

Ps. 139:14 “I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

When I put myself down, while standing on the scale, measuring my middle or looking at my reflection, I am discounting God’s wonderful works. God has made all things beautiful, including me and you who might be reading this.

Just for me…will you read the above verse again? God’s works are wonderful, there’s no chopped liver mentioned.

Do you have a love or hate relationship with the scale?

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