245.8

You don't need the scale to tell you what the truth is.

Oh, sure, you may avoid specific knowledge.  You may cling to a number that you think is what you  probably  weigh.  Of course, in the end you can avoid the scale for days or week even months or years, but you already know what the scale is going to tell you.  You're only kidding yourself.

On Friday, I clocked in at 245.8.

There is always a point when you start a diet that you look at your weight with a defiant sneer.  You label it your highest ever.  You proclaim that you will never ever weigh that much again.  You attempt to avoid the idea of that number in any small way you can, but it's still there even when you don't acknowledge it.

245.8

The fattest I've ever been.  The closest I've ever been to tipping down the pipe towards 300 pounds.

None of this okay.

NONE of this okay.

But for the first time, in one small way, I'm not hiding from this number anymore.  I am barely 5'2" tall and I know weigh 245.8 pounds.

I've outgrown my hard won size 18s that required spanx to wear.  They hang forlornly in the closet.  I can't try them on.  They were 35 pounds ago.  The smaller size 22s that I wore every day last year?  Retired.  They're too tight.  The "fat" pants?  They're now my regular pants.  The pair of size 24s that I bought to bridge the gap while I tried to lose weight?  That was six weeks ago and they're snug after a washing.

My bras?  Too small.   The cute pair of pajama pants I bought last spring?  Won't even try for fear of having to face the depressing news of just what 35 extra pounds has done to me.

Friday, I went back to Weight Watchers.  How many times have I gone back?  Enough.  Too many?  I can't answer that.  In the past, I've made excuses why I couldn't go to a meeting and face my weight.  For years, I've carried the idea that if I just try hard at home for a week (or two or four) I'll lose the weight that my indiscretions  have caused me to gain and I'll return to Weight Watchers without having to face the scale or the piper.  What would happen if I had to face the music every week.  No matter what.   What would happen if I committed to that idea for real?