Thursday, February 5, 2015
The Day My Scale Disappeared
The last time I weighed myself was October 17th. Over three months ago. It was also my birthday. I'm still not sure why I thought that would be a good birthday present to myself. It wasn't.
Then the scale sat unused but tempting and taunting me until last month.
The day my 8-year-old daughter randomly decided to weigh herself was the day the scale disappeared.
The number on the scale has become a measurement of so much more than weight for too many people, especially women and girls. After managing to resist weighing myself for nearly three months and instead focusing on how I felt and how my clothes fit instead, watching Grace step on the scale was like being punched in the face.
I don't know what motivated the curiosity of my incredibly fit daughter. My child who has a six-pack that would be the envy of nearly every woman I know. My child who is long and lean and incredibly strong. My child who probably weighs more than many of her classmates only because her gymnast body is solid muscle.
But none of that mattered. All she wanted to know, for whatever reason, was a number. A meaningless number.
Knowing how much that number can end up meaning in spite of its actual insignificance prompted the removal of our scale.
That moment was yet another reminder of how important it is to focus on what actually matters: being healthy and fit and encouraging others to do the same. Modeling that for my girls is a daily challenge as I struggle with my own insecurities and "fat" days. But it's becoming increasingly important as my girls get older and become more exposed to and aware of the pressures, comparisons and criticisms that sadly surround us.
I have to recommit to being positive about my body. Every. Single. Day.
But it's worth it. For my daughters. For myself.
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