Another year, another confession

Hello again, everyone.  I seem to be on schedule for writing 1-2 posts a year, so here's one for you now.  This is highly related to my most popular blog post from almost exactly one year ago.  If you haven't read that, and would like to, you can do so here.  It is not required for this post.  Trigger warning for those with eating/body image issues.

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I sat down in my car and put the key in the ignition, though it took me a couple of tries.  My left eye was itching from the tears that were caught in it since I was trying so hard to hold them back as I walked through the parking lot, and the lump in my throat made it next to impossible to talk.  All I wanted to do tonight after work was to get my free assessment by a personal trainer, and I thought that it wasn't going to be a problem.  After all, I just wanted a few tips to get me in better shape to run a 10k and be better at weight training.

I should have known to say "no" when the trainer asked me to get on the scale.  I was nervous about it all day.  I could have told him my weight; I wouldn't even have lied about it.  This scale was not only going to tell him my weight, but also tell him exactly how fat I was (to most people with a healthy mindset, this is called "body fat percentage").  How do you say no to something like that, though?  I thought, If I say no, he's just going to think I'm not serious about this, or that I'm prissy.  Alternatively, I could explain, "Sorry, Complete Stranger, I have an eating disorder and would really rather not completely ruin my night as I have been having a really rough time with my body image and how I'm dealing with it lately." Yeah, no.  Neither of those options seemed great at the time.  I even considered just getting up and leaving at that point.  Instead, I chose to just step on the scale.  How bad could it be?

The answer is: very.  It was very bad.  I made him do the body fat percentage twice, because it was much, much higher than any other test I had done.  I told him, "Disregard it; that number is inaccurate.  Seriously.  I've done those other tests, like the body fat calipers and the electric handheld thing, you know?"  So much for not making him think I'm prissy.  In my defense, the number it said would actually have qualified me as obese.  As messed up as my body image is, I know that I am not obese.  I am far from it.  I don't know why I feel compelled to defend myself.  Even if I were obese, my reaction would still not have been a normal one.  And then it ruined the whole rest of my session.  And then I hated myself for letting it get to me so much; Why can't I just get over it?  No matter how much to trainer complimented me ("You're very athletic," and, "You're very coachable," and, "It's so nice to work with people who aren't afraid to try hard."), I couldn't get past my embarrassment of how terribly fat I felt after my initial assessment and the self-loathing that followed.

After my assessment and solo workout afterward (which only helped to clear my head until I walked out the door), I spent some time sitting in the parking lot texting people, asking for reassurance and balking at the injustice that is the body fat scale at that gym.  I needed some numerical reassurance, as well.  I spent some time while driving home calling around to a couple of places and asking if they had body fat calipers.  They didn't.  I stopped in Ankeny to ask a couple of places if they had body fat calipers.  They didn't.  Honestly, my only triumph for the evening was that when I stood in front of the body fat scales in Target, I decided against buying a $40 scale after my search for the body fat calipers failed.  All this time, my head was pounding, I was light headed, and my heart was racing.  I was having a freaking anxiety attack because of this stupid scale at the gym.

Now, as I sit at home and think about that experience, it makes me realize how truly far I feel that I have regressed in the last year since I wrote about how far I had come.  This truly is a lifelong struggle.  I'm telling you this not because I want sympathy or reassurance that I am so gorgeous, or because I think my problems are any more important than anyone else's, but because maybe someone can relate and my story can help that person see that it's a problem for them.  This story from tonight is really just the tip of the iceberg for me and what I've been going through lately.  I saw myself slipping months ago and decided to go back to counseling, but then stopped going when my insurance switched with the new job and just haven't started, and I have slipped even further still since I stopped.  I'm going to call first thing tomorrow and go back, because I need someone to talk to.  Internet, I'm telling you this because I know you are so nice all the time ( ;) ).  If you feel like this could help anyone you know, please share it.