I haven’t stepped on a scale since December, and I have never been happier. I used to be addicted. In high school, I would come back from a practice and immediately step on the scale in my parents bathroom to see if I had lost any weight. I was perfectly healthy for my height and age, but I just wasn’t satisfied. I wanted to be everything. Skinny but toned. Slim but muscular. A flat stomach that didn’t poke over the top of my jeans. Arms that didn’t jiggle whenever I picked up my arm to wave at somebody. Small enough for some cute boy one day to pick me up and spin me around. That’s why I weighed myself every day.
When I started my freshman year of college, I was healthy. When I ended my first year, I had gained five pounds. But I was still healthy. I still weighed myself every day. I was at the gym at least once a day, seven days a week and yet only saw those numbers go up. I was growing up still so my body was changing and filling out a little. But I was furious. I didn’t understand how I could be trying so hard to lose weight while actually watching myself get bigger. So, I continued to step on that scale every day.
I came home from college and my parents told me I gained weight. They said it lovingly of course because they knew I wasn’t happy with myself. They encouraged me to work out over the summer because I just didn’t seem to be myself. I became frustrated and lazy. I stopped working out. But I still weighed myself every day. Praying that the numbers would start going down. They didn’t.
I was furious, upset, sad, irritated. I was healthy, but it wasn’t enough.
Fast forward to December; I stepped on the scale. I saw that extra five pounds sitting there, once again. That was the last time I got on my scale. I threw it in the dumpster. Yes, literally threw that piece of shit in the closest dumpster I could find and didn’t look back.
That was the last time I weighed myself. That was the last time I was upset about my weight.
Fast forward again to the present day, four months post scale dumping incident. I am ecstatic, happy, overjoyed – perfectly at peace with myself. I am down a pants size for the first time in three years. I can walk around in a sports bra and feel perfectly confident. I am toned and my stomach is flat. My arms don’t jiggle when I wave to someone. I am happy.
No, I didn’t try one of those extreme dieting fads. I stopped obsessing. I just started living. I exercise every day because I want to. It’s how I deal with the daily stressors of being a college student. I eat what I want, but I also enjoy cooking new and healthy options. I am living the way I want to for the first time in years.
I don’t want to step back on the scale. Ever again. It controlled me in ways that make me sick just thinking about it. A scale shouldn’t control how you live your life, regardless of how you think of your body. I have no idea if I ever lost those five pounds, but I don’t care. I feel healthy and I am living my life the way I want to. I found that cute boy I always wanted, and yes, he does pick me up from time to time. I am happy.