It ain’t nothin’ but a number

My baby, or more accurately, my youngest, is almost three. In June, 2008, when she was six weeks old, I buckled her up in her car seat and lugged her to our first Weight Watchers meeting. I had no idea that “trying to lose my baby weight” would evolve into a profound journey of self discovery.

As required, I set myself a short-term and a long-term goal. I diligently counted points and measured my servings. I balanced the delicate art of losing weight and maintaining a good enough milk supply for my voracious eater. I jogged, around our neighbourhood and eventually farther. And when my girl was four months old, I ran a 10k.

I lost all the extra weight I had gained by the time she was seven months and scored myself a lifetime membership to Weight Watchers. I even ran a half marathon. I had achieved my goals! Except for one problem. I still wasn’t satisfied.

The number on the scale hadn’t magically made my stretch marks or that crazy wrinkly skin on my stomach disappear. My mid-section was still squishy. When I looked at my body, I didn’t really like what I saw. But how was this possible? I weighed what I wanted! I’ve never been great at math, but I had obviously miscalculated this equation. 138lbs did not equal happiness. And it was supposed to.

Fast forward two years and I’m here to tell you: Throw out your scale.

There will be no one single achievement that will make you happy or like yourself more if you can’t love yourself today.

My husband is the strongest, fastest man I know (and if you’re questioning my objectivity right now, you should, because my unabashed love and pride of him completely blinds me. But! He does run an 18 minutes 5k and can do 40 pull up, so he’s pretty awesome). He was looking at himself in the mirror last night and commented that he could see parts of his body he’d like to change. I shouldn’t think those things, he said, It’s not fair to myself.

Easy to rationalize for a guy who has about 8% body fat, right? Except that statement is applicable to everyone. I’d love for the skin on my stomach to magically snap back to the firmness it had pre-children. I’d like to be one of those people that complains about how it’s soooo haaaard to gain weight. You’d probably like to run faster or have more dedication or to be thinner or stronger or smarter or better at balancing your demanding job with everything else in your life.

When you look at your body and think about what you’d like to change, ask yourself why you feel that way. I’m here to tell you (and I will preach it for the rest of my life) that losing 10lbs (or 20 or 100) is not going to solve your problems. Losing 10lbs is not going to fix your relationship. It is not going to get you promoted. Realistically, it will get you a new pair of pants and that’s it.

I’m not saying that it’s not ok to lose weight in a healthy way or even to want to. I’m saying that you need to love yourself. You need strip off and look at yourself naked in the mirror. You need to look at every scar and mole and stretch mark and accept it as part of who you are – part of a beautiful and strong and determined person.

The road to self-acceptance and self-love is not an easy one (trust me, I’m on it). It’s full of bumps and set backs and times when you’re tired of trying to be right with yourself. It’s ok to cry, to lay on your bed and sob. But you can get back up. You can get out for a run. You can let go of that magic number on the scale that you think will bring you happiness. You can learn to believe in yourself.

You can learn to believe in yourself.