Article May 31, 2004 Issue

I Stepped off the scales

By Julie Ward

When I was a Teenager , I danced with a regional ballet company. There was a great focus on having the thinnest body possible. I loved my job, but I felt a constant pressure to watch my weight. Often weight determined what roles we could have, and even whether we could remain in the company. All our conversations in the dressing room before and after dancing centered around what we had eaten—how many calories or how much fat was in the food.

I turned into a walking calorie-counter. When I saw a plate of food, it was as if my mental calculator turned on, and instead of seeing food, I saw numbers of calories.

I went on a series of fad diets. For years, I wrote down everything I ate. Sometimes I would go for days having nothing but diet soda and dill pickles. This kind of diet was not happy for me. I was on a roller coaster—starving myself, and then running around the kitchen like a maniac making up for lost time. I would lose five pounds and gain back seven. And then I'd lose eight pounds and gain back twelve. Still my weight was steadily climbing. At this time, I was weighing myself five or six times a day. It was as if I thought that the scales could tell me exactly what my worth was.

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