The scale clicks as one of the nurses moves the little weights around. It takes a minute to get it right. The final verdict has to be perfect, safe, and secure. There can not be room for error. It’s an important process and, after a few minutes, Tiffany emerges from the exam room and holds the door for me to take her place.

I rise from my sitting position on the hallway floor and get a couple of “good luck” comments from Amy, Elle, Benji, and Laura who are next in the queue. Today is the day that I am aiming to meet my 75% of ideal body weight goal. If I can do this I can move up to level three and assume all the privileges that come along with it. There is the ability to go on staff-accompanied outings to pretty much wherever they are willing to take us. There is the emergence of new activities on the schedule that I wasn’t eligible for below 75%. These include some of the more physical things like going to the gym for a game of badminton on Sunday, participating in the yoga group thats held twice a week, and going food shopping off the unit in preparation for coffee klatch. At 75% there is also the cooking group that is immediately followed by a lunch in which we dine on what we have cooked. There is now the Wednesday lunch group in where the unit’s dietician, Sally, takes a few of us out to lunch at one of the many nearby restaurants or delis. Then, at 75%, there is the group that has been my aim for a while now – Menu Planning.

Finally I will get to decide from, limited mind you, list of meal options for each week. I have been here long enough to go through the rotation and try everything they have to offer, for better or worse, and now I can have more say over the composition of the meals I am consuming. I consider this with a slight smile bringing light to my still sleepy 6 am face as I enter the exam room.

The heavy door closes behind me and i start to get undressed. Its just me and today’s nurse in there and she is busy updating and organizing the charts on her clipboard while I lay each article of clothing on the counter as it comes off. The room is not as chilly on my bare skin today and I am thankful for that. I am down to the one thing we get weighed in, my underwear, and she follows me into the tiny bathroom where the scale stands tall and intimidating. The authority this hunk of metal takes on is almost eerie; its extreme influence unnerving.

I am used to the nurses doing double and triple takes when they first see me undressed. At first glance it almost looks like I am still clothed due to all of my tattoos but this nurse has been through weights with me before. It’s not new to her. I step up onto the scale’s platform with determination, feeling the rough non-slip surface beneath my bare feet.  The nurse slides the bottom weight around, first to the 100 which proves too much, and then back down to the 50 pound mark. The upper, smaller weight takes a little longer to adjust, a bit more back and forth. I watch the needle on the side do it’s slow shimmy.

Finally, with one reassuring glance at the exact numbers, I get my answer. In the last 48 hours I have gained the one pound needed to hit my 75% goal. Its just the first of many accomplishments in this arena and I can’t wait to see what is behind the new doors it will open for me. I dress again and head back to my bedroom giving the others in the hallway a thumbs-up as I go.