Never owning a scale.
I’m serious – happiness (for me) is never owning a scale.
I hate scales. They are just little judgemental rectangles that sit on the floor of your bathroom (or bedroom if you’re really serious) and taunt you.
Growing up, my mum was obsessed with her scale (still is if you ask me) and that definitely shaped how I felt about my own body and weight. She was constantly asking my dad “I’m not that fat am I?” as she would point to other women when we were out in public. What a way to implant a self-judgmental attitude into a young girl! I think I went on my first diet when I was around 10.
Now, before I go on to condemn my mother, I really do have to defend her. She was born in the late 50’s and raised in a household where size mattered. I guess in a culture where size mattered. She views herself as the black sheep of the family since she is the tallest and the biggest. And when she had children, she just started to put on the weight. Over my childhood, she would diet, join weight watchers, do all the things for a few weeks, be upset about how she looked and how she wasn’t getting instantly smaller. And it all went back to the scale.
The scale would influence how she felt about herself.
When I was in high school, my mum was working full time, and she had joined a gym. She would be buying smaller clothes but her weight wouldn’t be going down. Oh how this would torment her! She didn’t account for things like muscle weighing more than fat, or how her body was adjusting to her new work out routine. That number didn’t change and that was the end all, be all.
She would be upset about the size of her children (both my brother and I were on the heavier side growing up) but more so for me. She never pushed us to do anything athletic or to change up the food we were eating as a family. Yet she was always so concerned about our size. Voicing this concern to her sisters and friends and always getting the same response “oh they’ll shoot right up when they are teenagers and thin out.” That’s not exactly how it works, ladies.
But I have decided to live scale free. And let me tell you! It’s amazing.
I know kind of where I am weight-wise, usually within 5lbs. But I literally could not care less.
Once I lost the scale and the idea that the scale was the deciding factor in my happiness, I flourished!
I no longer care about the number on the scale. I know that if I take my weight in the morning, it might be up to 3lbs different by the time I go to bed. Women have strange bodies – water weight or where we are in our cycles can change our weight drastically over the day.
While my mum will weigh herself every morning when she first wakes up, I’m having breakfast. The way to start a day great is to eat something delicious and not look at numbers near my toes.
Over the last few months, I’ve been telling you guys about how my clothes are too big – even the ones that I literally just bought. So I’ve decided to see if I’ve actually lost weight, or if it the shape of my body was just changing.
I took notice of my weight at Christmas time. When I got a new doctor in April, he took my weight. This was the first time I was on a scale since Christmas. I had lost 15lbs. I felt like I had dropped some weight, but again, not really of a big concern for me. The bigger victory was being able to walk home from work up the big hill without getting winded in all my winter gear, being able to play with the kidlets longer, or being able to control the dogs easier while walking them. I could feel my body getting stronger, not thinner.
I’m not doing anything crazy or insane to do that. I’m honestly just living a happy life. I don’t care if I order a pizza on the weekend because I have no scale to taunt me “are you sure you want to eat that?” Which of course, the answer is always yes. The answer to pizza is always going to be yes.
I can see my body changing now. I actually look taller as my pudge is slimming out. I have a 7-year-old who throws a little bit of a whine-fest whenever an adult mentions I look thinner because she thinks I’m going to lose my squishy tummy. I don’t think I’ll ever lose my squishy tummy. Or at least not while she’s still at the age to want to lay on it.
It’s been a while since the start of April, and as I can see myself changing again, I decided to step on the scale. Another 10lbs since April gone. I found this out the second day of my vacation.
And what have I been doing at least 5 times over the last two weeks?
Stepping on the freaking scale!
It’s there and it’s like I’m drawn to it! I need to know all the time. Did I go up? Did I go down? Did eating a big breakfast really make it go up 1.4 lbs?! Should I have really eaten those gummy bears? (again, yes!) And I can feel my happiness slipping away while I focus on those numbers.
While I’m sad to know that my vacation is ending, I am also super excited to get back to my happy, non-scale life. Knowing that the numbers by my toes shouldn’t have so much power over my happiness. Dropping the power that the scale has over my life has been, and probably always will be, a great achievement in my life.