I do not weigh myself. I have a very good scale that dates back to when I first brought my second daughter home from the hospital. She was born 7 weeks early and spent three weeks in the NICU. Weight was a serious issue for her, so a few times a day I would weigh myself and then weigh myself holding her. It was probably the only time in my life where I didn’t give a damn what I weighed, because I had more important things on my mind.
Now the scale gathers dust under the bed, except when my daughters find it. They think it’s fun to weigh themselves. No matter what number they tell me, I say “That’s awesome!” And back under the bed it goes.
Weight is supposedly a critical piece of the overall health of a body. But it doesn’t feel that way, does it? Running four miles makes me feel healthy. Bypassing the ten pound weights for something heavier makes me feel strong. Climbing that goddamn mountain makes me feel like a badass. Stepping on a scale, seeing that number? It doesn’t make me feel healthy, or strong, or badass. It makes me feel wrong, and the worst part is, I’m not entirely sure what number it would have to be to make me feel right. I don’t think that number exists.
Logically, I know weight doesn’t change anything. I’m still the same person I was before I stepped on the scale, health-wise and otherwise. But there’s nothing logical about the way women feel about their weight.
What the scale can tell you: You weight, at that moment
What the scale cannot tell you: Whether you are healthy, what you would look like with a ten pound loss, what you would look like with a ten pound gain, whether you should ask out that cute single dad, do people even like you.
For me, weight is one question I don’t need answered.