About a year ago I was at the clinic for a non-serious type of doctor appointment for myself. The nurse took me towards the back examination room and relayed to me the outdated height and weight record they had on file. We stopped at the scale for me to step on. I made it seem as though I was totally carefree about getting weighed, but inside I was actually really agitated. One of the reasons I had come in was some massive water retention in my belly, having religiously drank 8-10 glasses of water a day for the past two weeks. My belly looked and felt like a giant water balloon was inside it. That number in front of me wasn’t accurate. This was not my normal. This was not my number. It bothered me that it was going on record. But what bothered me even more was the just the fact that it bothered me.
Being one who has not only made the mother-daughter pact. , but literally wrote it, I felt like a complete hypocrite. Sure, I have come leaps and bounds to loving and appreciating my body. But yet, even though it was sporadic and rare, I still stepped on the scale at home. Though weight was far from my mind in defining myself, it would appear after that doctor’s visit that I still had a battle to fight.
Though weight was far from my mind in defining myself, it would appear after that doctor’s visit that I still had a battle to fight.
And fight it I have.
I have gone a whole year without weighing myself. I decided straight after my day at the clinic to break free from the obsessed normal and say no to the scale. Obviously, for record keeping sake I will get weighed for medical and driver’s license requirements. But at home? Nope.
Truth is there is no need for me to know that number. The reasons to consistently weigh myself are either for physical vanity or shameful guilt. Neither option does my self-worth any good. And self-worth is what I crave most not only for me, but for this new generation of little girls. For my daughter. So I did it, I’ve literally put weighing myself behind me.
Less guilt. Less shame. Less judgment on others. Less worry. Less stress. More time mentally spent on what really matters. More gratitude for my body. More confidence. More self-awareness on who I am and who I want to be. More contentment in my body. More respect for my body. More patience with my physical limits. More ambition to be active. I could on and on…
Having let go of that number on the scale, I feel so much lighter mentally. It has been a giant step forward in teaching my daughter what really matters. To respect her body. To love her body. To protect her body. To focus more on what she can do to better herself, her family, and this world than how low she can get a stupid number on a scale.
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