144. Digital.

I don't own a scale. It's not a protest or anything. I just never cared about numbers. After I realized I couldn't eat like a normal human, I had about fifty doctors' appointments, most of which involved the intro of "blood pressure-pulse-weigh-in." Weigh-in interested me the most because I hadn't been that thin since I was nineteen. The numbers wavered. 127. 131. 129. I hardly associated the numbers with myself. It may as well have been a receipt from the grocery store. Yogurt, $1.27, Salt shaker, $1.31, Chocolate bar, $1.29.

Last night at a birthday dinner for Grassfed's partner in crime, he suggested I use their scale. I thought hey, why not and hopped on without hesitation. The first number that arose. 146. That can't be right. Let's give this a second whirl. 144. Ok, then. Approximately 15 pounds, it is. I needed to remind myself that although that number was looking up at me without remorse from its digital perch far below, my ego was no match for the facts. The fact is that I'm 15 pounds heavier, I can eat what I want, when I want to, and my body is no longer yearning for nourishment.

With the risk of sounding self-righteous, I feel refreshed with my own outlook. This has never been the case, as I'm normally self-deprecating for effect. But I think about how many women I know that are constantly talking about dieting and love handles and calories and "being good" and drinking light beer instead and keeping clothes that don't fit in the hopes of one day slipping back into them. Slipping back into an old body. Instead I'm trolling the jeans rack at Macy's not knowing what size I am and grabbing three of everything without looking at the price tag. And then following up the shopping with a full rack of ribs and two pints of Newcastle.

It feels warm to not worry. To not worry about the size of my thighs, as long as my pants fit around them. To not worry about how much of something I'll be able to eat. To not worry that I will have to leave the table or leave the party or leave the bowling alley. To not worry about what I don't know about what's happening inside of me. To just KNOW. Knowledge isn't as much power as it is comfort.