I’m not sure that I’ve ever met another woman who actually likes the scale.
I don’t know about you, but for a long time my life was all about numbers. And the scale was a constant reminder that I was failing.
Every single day.
I have always been tall. I remember when I was younger, it was a blessing. The teacher always called on me to grab things. I was always taller than the boys. I loved it.
And then, as we got older, as I filled out, suddenly my blessing turned into my biggest curse.
My friends were average. Wearing average sizes. But me, I was ‘big boned’.
I hated it because I couldn’t share clothes with my friends. I was too big. Even though I wasn’t anywhere near big.
But the scale told me differently.
For years I constantly compared my body to everyone else. From my friends to the magazines I read. In my opinion, I was never pretty enough. Skinny enough. Sexy enough. I hated everything about the way I looked.
No matter how much weight I lost or what size I was, the scale always reminded me that I was bigger. Different. Not good enough.
Sexy was a size. A certain number. And despite my efforts, I just couldn’t get there.
I was a failure. Not just a failure, but a fat failure.
And then came marriage and kids. And if I had thought I was fat before, I was wrong.
I remember constantly moving up in sizes at the store and pretending like it didn’t bother me.
But it did.
And again, I found myself hating everything about me.
Especially when I got back on the scale.
Oh, I tried it all. Spanx, sucking it in, sweats, but I couldn’t do anything to hide the fact that I was now actually fat.
I stopped taking pictures. I hid behind people if I had to be in a picture.
I hated myself.
Until one day, I read a book. ‘Wheat Belly‘. It changed everything for me. The author suggested throwing wheat out of your diet for 3 days. If you felt better, keep going. If you didn’t, resume wheat.
I could do 3 days. And I did. And I felt incredibly better. So I kept going. And I kept going. And in just about a year with no exercise really, I lost nearly 50lbs.
I remember pausing for a moment when I was on the scale reading those numbers. I hadn’t seen those numbers since high school. It was the first time I didn’t rush to get off the scale.
I paused and took it all in.
Thus began my health and wellness journey. Soon I would incorporate wheat back into my diet, and decided to add the gym.
For those of you who know me, know that it all started because of the free childcare.
Oh I took full advantage of 2 hours kid free. And overtime, I got into lifting.
The progress was undeniable. My body was transforming right in front of me. I was wearing sizes I hadn’t worn in 15+ years.
In my opinion, I hadn’t looked better.
So, I jumped on the scale. Excited to see what the numbers said. Because I just knew that this was going to be huge for me.
Boy, was I right.
I had gained. Nearly all the weight I had lost, I gained back.
5 flipping pounds.
Now, if I had listened to the scale or believed that numbers still defined me, I would have been angry and defeated. But instead, I’m looking at this picture and I am blown away because even though 5 lbs doesn’t seem like a lot, it’s so much in this picture.
The thing is, the media would have us believe that 5 lbs is nothing. The magazines would tell us that it should only take a week to lose 5 lbs. The number on the scale would have you believe that I’m not in good shape. That I’m not ideal. That my body is not where it should be.
But what I’m telling you, from the girl who always let a number define her, 5 lbs is one hell of an accomplishment.
And 5 lbs, has never looked better.
So please, don’t let the numbers define you. Don’t listen to what the scale says. Start small. Start where you are. Because progress is progress.
Even if it’s just 5 lbs.