I Faced the Scale

Like so many people in the world I have a love/hate relationship with the scale.  I've struggled with my weight most of life and if you are a firm believer in the BMI index I would certainly be considered obese.  My tops are usually sized L or XL and I wear a size 16 in pants/skirts.  I'm pear shaped so finding a one piece of anything that fits me perfectly up top and down below is usually an exercise in futility.

I don't rely much on what the scale says.  In fact I don't even own one.  I keep an eye on how my clothes are fitting.  I make sure I drink plenty of water and eat a fairly consistent diet.  I'm not perfect at any of this but I am aware of my choices and most days I'm quite content with my self.

The only time I step on the scale is when I'm at the doctor's office and they make me.  I usually step up but don't look at the number.  I think it's because I'm afraid of what I think the number will secretly tell me, "You're fat."  "You've gained weight".  "You're not healthy...."

When I got pregnant I decided I could no longer hid from that number nor would I let it dictate my life or that of my unborn child.  During my first pre-natal appointment I was asked to step on a scale.  I didn't turn away and watched as the 197 jumped on the screen.  I felt relief and a sense of power.

Last week I found myself down and out with a severe cold.  I ended up at my doctors office as I thought I had contracted a sinus infection.  I stepped on the scale and for a moment was mortified as the number 208 popped up...yikes!!  Eleven pounds since the beginning of January.  Then I remembered that it's a number.  It's job is to go up and down and I'm the one in charge of the direction.  At that point I decided that I no longer was going to run and hide from the numbers on the scale.  In the end, it is simply a number....a number to be aware of but not ruled by.