Why Let a Number Define You?


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In discussions today with a friend, the subject of weight came up.  Most of you can guess how I feel on this topic but for those of you who don’t know, let me enlighten you. 🙂

I hate it!

I hate that we are so driven and motivated by some number on this tiny little glass thing we call a scale. I hate that going to the doctor automatically gives me an obese BMI. I hate that girls compete with other girls regarding this number. I hate that you’re automatically grouped into one category based on what you weigh: clothing sizes, pantyhose sizing, bra/under where sizes, even the stereotype that (god forbid) goes along with telling someone your real weight.

I am not sure where we went wrong entirely as a society that we let a number define and often control us as people, but I find it simply ridiculous.

I wont deny I wasn’t just like those who let this number control their thoughts, decisions, and lives. It took me a while to get to the comfortable point I am at now—maybe I just gave up caring, I am not sure. Either way, I am much happier now than I was then!

I have shared this before but my first powerlifting meet I was informed my weight would be up on the screen alongside the weight you were attempting, etc. My first reaction: “You mean everyone can see how much I weigh every time I lift?” I can imagine the look on the guy’s face who told me went a little something like “WTF, was that sarcasm?!”  Even I am embarrassed about that now.

I remember weighing myself everyday I trained at the UofM, hoping that number would go down on the scale before I had to admit publicly to it!

Lets just agree that was ridiculous; I was letting some 3-digit code control my life!

Now days, although I wont admit to perfection, I could give a crap less if any one knows what I really weigh. I don’t care if you are a male or female, I will tell you my real weight. Plus, what’s this crap we as females are taught regarding being 120lbs? From what did that magical number stem? I hear all the time, “I wish I was 120lbs.” Is something wonderful going to suddenly happen when you reach that number?  All of a sudden, will all your problems be fixed? Hum—guess for me I will never know! 🙂

Oh, and why are we taught we can’t tell a guy our real weight? Like do you honestly think any guy ACTUALLY cares what you weigh?! (If there are some I would love to talk to them.)

Anyway, my point is, I think its ridiculous we let something like this drive our moods, decide our self-confidence, and define us as people.

I will admit all day to weighing 160lbs. I am not all muscle – I have fat on my body, I have stretch marks, and no thigh-gap (don’t even get me started on that) and I am sorry, but I am nowhere near ashamed of any of that!  I do not have a perfect body, nor do I allude to.

I am damn proud of the muscle I have, damn proud of the strength I have, and yes—I weigh 160lbs, not 120!