2 years ago5,000+ Views
For a moment there, alone in the office bathroom at my job, I forgot that the number on the scale doesn't define me. I stared at the tiles on the bathroom floor trying to memorize the dirt that ingrained itself into the spaces in-between. My gaze would start over the number and look away again, back at the tiles that know nothing of numbers.
I sucked in my stomach (as if that would make a difference) and glanced again. And the number was still the same.
And for a few moments I let the world cave in around me. I watch as the room gets fuzzy and my cheeks felt warm. A shame I should not be feeling sweeping over me as I stood there alone.
Just me and the scale and the number that I am told defines me.
But then I blink my eyes and my reflection stares back at me. I am ruddy faced and breathing shallow. I am pulling myself together.
Because I remember I am in a different age, fighting a battle until the scale stops mattering, a crusader for body positivity. I am remembering my legs, which are hard as rocks from years of swimming and Irish Dance and basketball. I flex my arms, that spend hours a day wrestling toddlers and swinging them around.
And I wonder how anyone ever imagined that a number on a scale could weigh the number of times they smiled at a stranger. How the number could accurately pin point a person's IQ or their keen sense of social justice. How a stupid number could mark their body as beautiful or toss it into the trash.
I remember that there are a million beautiful women who have made it their mission to rid the world of this pursuit of the perfect body, and to instead find happiness in being oneself.
So I take another glance at the number and step off the scale.
And I walk out without another glance.
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@wllmvns ahhhhh stop you are wayyyyy to kind ❤️❤️
@LizArnone I'm sorry this just hit me right in the heart and I had to give credit where its due lol
@wllmvns hopefully we can both forget about the scale and the number once and for all
Keep on @LizArnone and thank you for the inspiration. I have similar thoughts every day. It's awesome that you are recognizing that there are going to be bumps along the way and that's alright! Xo
I wish I could get that into my head. I dread going to the doctor because I know that they have to weigh me, and that I'm being judged for it, especially if they see that I've gained weight from last time...only recently I've talked myself into wearing shorts after years of only wearing jeans because I'm so self conscious about my knees and how fat my legs are... and even now when I walk around in that one pair of shorts I have, I feel so uncomfortable... *sigh*