I threw away my scale, and I’m not replacing it.
I threw away my scale today. Not because of some profound declaration of independence from the little accessory that can cause mind games with us all, but because it was broken. A couple weeks ago my bathroom flooded for an unclear reason and the scale was a casualty. The water is gone now, flowing through the pipes correctly, but the scale is done.
If I lived near a WalMart or Target (insert moment of silence for those of us who have to live without) I’d likely just run out and grab a new one, but I don’t, so I’ve had a little time to think about this seemingly dull moment in time.
Do I really want a new scale?
Think about it with me for a bit. What purpose does a scale serve you? For some who have serious weight issues, or even just borderline serious, weight issues, I can see the purpose. You may need to diligently keep track of what it says to keep you on the path to healthy success. But for many of us, it can really be a total buzz kill. A kill joy. A slap in the face. Why do I want that in my life? Can’t the fact that my pants do or do not fit serve the same purpose, but with a little more wiggle room?
How many times have you stepped on the scale with set numbers in your head? A number to not be over, and if you are over, you feel bummed. A number to be under, and if you’re under, you feel a sense of hope and success. But if you didn’t know your number at all, if you didn’t have a chance to step on that scale, and you simply had to base your happiness with your body and your appearance based on looking in the mirror, would you be happier more and sad less? You can’t look in the mirror and truly see a two pound difference. You can step on a scale and see you’re two pounds heavier than you want to be, and how you react to that is up to you, but you’re not going to see those two pounds when you look in the mirror.
It’s all a mental game, and if it’s not a positive one, maybe I don’t need to play it.
I gave birth to my children when I was 26 and 29. When I turned 30 I decided I was a little bit wiser. Because 30 is “so old” right? Maybe not wiser, but a bit more confident. I am confident, not arrogant. There is a difference, and I certainly have more room to grow, but I’m come a long way. You should join me on that path, it’s a pretty good one. I decided in my 30’s I would do more things for me. Yes, I did plenty of things for me in my 20’s, but there was so many big ticket bucket list items during that time – college, grad school, marriage, babies – that eventually one must come out of the fog (as exciting as it is) and say, “Ok, and now who am I?” Or, “Who do I want to be?”
There’s many silly things on that 30’s list of things to do to take care of me – like actually trying out a skin care regimen because I’m not getting any younger and my laugh lines are getting more defined. Figuring out exactly who I am, what I’m good at, what I’m placed on this Earth to do is on that list. How much I weigh while discovering all that, is not.
Once upon a time I would have stepped on the scale every day. I know people who have to step on it every day. Think of some of the most incredible people you know. Think of some of the women in your life who have made your life better simply by them being a part of it. Do any of them weigh themselves and grumble about their weight? YES! I know many that do. I know women who are successful in their careers, who take care of their families in the most loving way, and they still include how much they weigh, and the size of their dresses, as a deciding factor of how much they are worth.
As someone who is hopeful that there really is a Heaven, my assumption is God will not ask me to step on the scale prior to entry.
Yes, I am all for being healthy. Yes, I myself would like to lose more weight and become stronger. But I would like to base how I change my mind and body on what I see in the mirror, and whether I need to buy a new wardrobe because my clothes are too tight or too loose, but not base my mental state on an arbitrary number that should come with an asterisk next to it. An asterisk because maybe I weigh X-amount and that sounds high but I have a lot of muscle. Or an asterisk because maybe I don’t weigh that much but I’m short and my frame is small. Or an asterisk because my number is high but I’m tall and I have fitness goals in mind that require I weigh that much. Or an asterisk because Taco Tuesday is amazing and I regret nothing.
So the scale is gone, my friends. And she’s not coming back for awhile, until SHE shows me her worth. Yes the scale is a “She” because she can be a real B-word.