Scaling back

So....

Today I had a photo shoot for an award I won from the University of Wisconsin-Madison (my alma mater). It's really exciting - it's called the "Forward Under Forty" award and it's given to 20 undergraduates under the age of 40 who have been leaders in their field and also exemplify what it means to be a true Badger alum. Needless to say it's a huge honor and I am extremely proud.

But I'm not writing this to brag. There is a method to my madness.

I met the photographer (also a UW alum) at my gym for the shoot, because he wanted to incorporate a scale into the pic and I obviously don't keep these vile creatures at home. With permission from my gym's manager, I was able to use a medical scale located in the cardio area...it had wheels on the back so it could be moved relatively easily.

Todd the Photog and I found an empty raquetball court that would work well and as he began lighting the space and setting up his equipment, I went to fetch the scale.

Now, normally I'm a sweaty, flushed mess when in the cardio room but today, I was dressed in a raspberry V-neck sweater, Seven jeans and high-heeled black boots. I had makeup on. I looked (admittedly) pretty nice. This worked in my favor, as the people there probably didn't recognize me when I tiptoed into the room, tilted the giant scale back and started rolling it across the tile floor like some kind of fitness fanatic-burglar.

Did I mention the wheels were there to make it easier to transport? Oh, what I meant to say was the wheels didn't do squat because the scale is made of heavy metal and the whole thing banged loudly as I dragged it past the stretching area, into a freight elevator and down a looong catwalk to the racquetball court.

It only took about two seconds before I realized the irony of the situation. Here I was, a body image writer - a former eating disorder patient, for crying out loud - literally dragging a giant scale in public like it was some sort of 50-lb-tumor that had suddenly appeared on my body and needed to be haphazardly carted around. All of the sudden, I became a walking metaphor: The woman who "carries" her weight around with her, letting that number slow her down.

A woman in an awesome 80s leotard thing saw me and cocked an eyebrow.

"Give it up, sister!" she said. "That's a little obsessive, dontchyathink?"

We both laughed. It truly was funny and quite ironic. It was as if I'd become the Patron Saint of Weight Loss Addicts - representing all the women who hop on that and other scales everyday, judging their worth by the number that appears. The scale was like my cross to bear, an albatross too big to fit around my neck, so I had to lug it behind me.

The photo shoot went well (we took a bunch of pics with me standing behind the scale, arms crossed on top, and some others with me sitting down on the thing, leg crossed and looking up.) Todd was awesome and told me about a shoot he has for a major sports pub tomorrow, where he'll be photographing athletes' hands. Once we finished, I had the unenviable task of dragging the scale all the way back to the cardio room. Again, many people stared at me like I was a crazy lady. One woman said nothing but her jaw dropped a little bit. I smiled and said, "I never go anywhere without it!" A group of guys having some beers at the bar made growling sounds and told me I looked good (this has so many implications and possible interpretations that I'm remiss to even tackle it.)

The scale was returned to its rightful home...though I probably messed up the calibration system with all that back-and-forth - my apologies to the twig who jumps on it, only to see a big old "500 lbs" staring back at her. But then again, I kind of hope that happens. It just underscores the absurdity and meaninglessness of numbers. I'm not saying I'm perfect or don't secretly get a minithrill if vanity sizing puts me at a Size X instead of a Size Y. But I damn sure don't let that scale drag me around...or down.

Comments

Congrats Leslie!! You've definitely earned it. Will they post the pic online? After hearing this story, now we definitely need to see the finished product!

Also, glad to know that you proved bystanders will let pretty people get away with crimes that a lesser person couldn't - next up, the frappucino machine!

PS> I LOOOOVE my Seven jeans. And vanity sizing:)

Congrats on the award!

I do really have to ask, though, why you would consent to a photoshoot that went against what you work so hard for and believe in???

Congrats on the award! I probably would have been the woman the open jaw but I would have thought that you had finally had it and were throwing it away like many of the women in my gym threaten to do!

Oh and I second Charlotte's request to see the final product!

Hi all,
Thanks for the congrats! I will def post a link once the award issue is mailed out.

In response to Rachel's question - and it's an important question, so I'm glad you asked it, R! - here are my thoughts. In deciding to incorporate the scale, but with me sitting on it, turned around, the thought was that the pic was making a statement - a woman once so ruled by the scale can now easily turn her back on it. I'm sitting on it as if it's a chair, not an assessor of self worth. But I do agree, this may be a bit too-thought-out and not obvious when the pic is seen. I'm going to talk with the photog about what he thinks. In retrospect, we should have taken some scale-free shots. I'll keep you all posted!

Good Job. Well done & Congrats on your acheivement and honor. "group of guys having some beers at the bar made growling sounds and told me I looked good" Where has chivalry gone? did none of them offer to help? but I have to say the scales to many people, me included, is a wonderful tool in a healthy life, I jump on mine most mornings and it helps to know if I am within my correct range. I never obsess over a specific number as so many variables can throw you off, but its nice to be somewhat aware. I need it. keeps me conscious of what i'm eating.