Weight for It

Earlier this year, I decided not to weigh myself on a regular basis. Like many people, I’d look at that number and it would somehow color my day, regardless if it was a single digit difference. I really don’t believe in allowing a number to inversely quantify my sense of self worth, but here I was engaging in a practice that did just that. It didn’t make sense. So away went the scale.

For many years, my mind led the charge. Telling me what to feel, what not to feel, whether what I felt made sense and if it didn’t, to stop feeling it. In a like manner I dictated to my body when it should be hungry, when it should be full, if it should move or if it should rest. It was more or less a one way conversation until my body would do something drastic to get my attention. And it would get my attention for a short time. Enough attention to be disappointed and frustrated at it.

This wasn’t working for me, so I decided to try a radical approach over the course of the past several months. I listened to my body. It was shy at first, but when it realized it had a voice that would be heard, it would speak up in no uncertain terms. I did my best to honor it. From time to time my mind would reinstate its power and I would have to gently remind it that this wasn’t the way we did things anymore. Sometimes that worked, sometimes it didn’t, but it was certainly more successful than it had been in the past.

My body rewarded me. I felt better and had more energy. Yoga helped me to honor by body and I was witness to it responding in kind. I was also aware of it changing and growing stronger with more yoga classes. This was something I very rarely saw in myself. Maybe because I would get discouraged and quit an activity before I could measure progress, or maybe because I never paid much attention before. Probably both. There were other improvements. One of the ways my body used to cry out in distress was through my stomach. But now, it was quieter, happier. I focused on loving my body. It was hard at first but with practice and kindness, it grew easier. I liked how my clothes were fitting and how I looked in those clothes.

Yesterday morning, I thought of my scale. Why not? I thought. I wanted to see how much I had lost. I pulled it out and with a little excitement stepped on. I weighed exactly the same. Maybe even a pound more. Suddenly, my spirits dampened and I felt heavy and frumpy. How could this be, my mind thought. But then I caught myself. What was I doing? What did it matter how much I weighed? How did I feel. I checked in. I actually felt pretty good. I looked in the mirror. My eyes shined back at me and I smiled. This was me, just as I was the day before. But so much different than I was at the start of the year, regardless of what this machine said.
I don’t own a scale anymore.