Oh, the scale. That metal (or plastic or what have you) object that measures our personal gravitational pull toward the earth can often overly affect our self-esteem. So why does that number matter so much?

Story time! Gather ‘round, children. When I was just a wee lass growing up in the 80s, there was a height/weight chart that pediatricians followed. That chart was my absolute fucking nemesis. Every time my mom took me to the doctor, I’d get weighed and she’d get lectured on my weight. Every. Fucking. Time. Not to mention that a few kids at school made fun of me, called me “beached whale” or some other hilariously clever comment.

I could go into my mom’s childhood and how she grew up so dirt poor that she rarely even had food available, so my situation had zero food insecurity issues and more of the “clean your plate or else” variety. That was the norm and still is for many households, as if eating every bite of food on your plate solves world hunger in some mysterious way. To sum up: my parents were doing their best with the information they had at their disposal, which was nothing useful and mostly conjecture back then.

How’d I get to parenting in the 1980s? I’m still kind of in the atmosphere of the topic at hand, right? (Isn’t neurodivergence fun?)

Right, back to the chart. There was a number on the scale for the height you were. So if you were 5’5”, you should weigh 125 pounds or less. (I don’t recall there being any wiggle room in there…I only recall feeling a lot of shame and embarrassment around going to the doctor.) And by the time I reached that height, 125 had already been passed years before. But that number certainly got stuck in my mind, since here I am 35+ years later typing about it.

I have gotten over my battle with the scale, and I’d like to share with you how I did it.

1. I made a decision. I decided that no matter what that number reads, it has no reflection on what kind of a person I am. I’m empathetic and bright, and I spend every day just trying my fucking best to raise two good humans while presenting myself to be a relatively stable human being. My best looks vastly different from day to day, and I’ve decided to make that okay, too.

2. I’ve practiced. I weigh myself nearly every day now, and it has very little effect on my mental stability. There are still days when I get a little disappointed in myself that I’m not quite where I’d like to be, but I’m getting there. And for the first time in my life, I haven’t been yo-yoing like a mofo because I no longer use up so much emotional energy daily hating myself for not weighing 125 pounds.

3. I’ve been really fucking patient with myself. THAT IS NOT EASY TO DO. See step 2.

So there you go. Your weight isn’t your worth, despite what you’ve been led to believe. And as always, contact me for more support - dana@revolution-within.com

Love and hugs,

Dana