And even though I’ve become accustomed to not weighing myself, this felt like a legitimate reason to do so—a reason that had nothing to do with self worth or acceptance. This is what I have been working towards for so many years: viewing bodyweight as something that doesn’t reflect my worth, but simply a number that can be used (or not used) as needed. When I stepped on the scale after many months of abstinence, the number that appeared was higher than I’d anticipated; because I don’t weigh myself often, I usually I have a range that I imagine I fluctuate within, and I’m totally fine with that. This time, I was higher than the highest end of that range–and guess what?
I gave absolutely zero fucks about it. Like not even ONE.
In the interest of total transparency, I must tell you that this is the first time along my journey of self love and acceptance that I’ve felt this way. Over the past few years of working towards healing my body image, I’ve learned to care less and less about the number on the scale. I’ve weighed myself less frequently and gradually learned to (mostly) detach from the number.
There have been times when I’ve cared very little about the number, but a small part of me was still inclined to see the number as “good” or “bad.” Even after several years of body image rehab, weighing myself was not something I was completely comfortable with.
