Weight, Middle Age, and Birthday Presents
The number on the scale is wrong. Not wrong in the sense that the scale is broken, wrong in the sense that it really bothers me and I want it to be different.
I want it to be younger and less stressed. And lower. I want the number to be lower.
I’ve discovered over the last few years that I have an unhealthy relationship with my scale. I’ve let it dictate my worth, my sex appeal (in my own head), and my comfort in my own body. I’ve let it boss me around. I have the same problem with the number on the tag in my pants.
And I’m tired of it. Maybe it’s because I’m older. (Officially. Right now. Yay 43.) Maybe it’s because I’ve finally realized it’s utter bullshit. Maybe it’s because it’s exhausting and I don’t have time for such nonsense.
And I’m tired of repeating in my own head that working out + eating right = sexy, worthy, awesomeness, and that perfect number on the damn scale.
Because here’s the thing…I’m not going to stop being active. I love to run. I may be running a 12 minute mile, but being outside clears my head and it feels good. I may be the slowest one up the mountain, but I LOVE hiking. I may not be able to fit in that dress from a few years ago, but nobody I value in my life cares.
I’m also not going to stop enjoying delicious meals that may or may not fit in the “eating right” category. My husband is an incredible cook.
A few nights ago, I stood in my kitchen surrounded by my people. We laughed as my husband insisted I open my birthday present early because he needed to use it. (No it wasn’t a power tool.) They sang me happy birthday. It was loud and happy and just awesome.
And not one of those people gave two shits about my numbers. They simply, and wonderfully love me.
My gift to myself this year is to stop. Stop caring so damn much about the numbers. I’ll probably still rejoice if my favorite pair of pants fit again. I’ll also buy new clothes that feel amazing. I’ll sign up for a half marathon because running is exhilarating. I’ll go backpacking with my kids and my husband because memories are awesome.
I’ll continue to work on healthy habits and intentions.
What I won’t do?
I won’t beat myself up for something nobody else cares about. I won’t let my worth be dictated by my scale. Because at the end of my story, nobody will care about my number on the scale.
