Scales, Comparison, and Being “Ready”
Well, it happened yesterday. First, I want to say (just for the sake of acknowledging my recent effort) that obviously I have already begun the work it’s going to take to get where I want to go.
The first step was brining myself back into my body. Going AF (alcohol free) was another step. AF led to more exercise, namely adding strength training now that my body is healing. More exercise for me always means that better nutrition automatically follows.
In addition, I’m finally catching up with routine doctor visits that I’ve been putting off for a few years. Yes, years. Hence the stitches on my shoulder to remove a skin cancer a couple weeks ago. Margins are clear, no worries.
Yesterday, I went to a General Practitioner to set myself up as a new patient and to get bloodwork ordered so I can get an idea of how this post-menopausal body is doing on the inside. And we all know the first stop at the doctor’s office…the scale.
As a former gym owner, I have stood by hundreds of women as they stepped on a scale terrified for that number to appear before them laying bare their deepest insecurities. If I had it my way, they would never step on that scale. I was horrified year over year to learn how many women wake and weigh every day. Every. Day. What a damaging way to start a day.
As a coach, I’ve always done my best to sway women away from allowing the scale access to their daily life. I’ve plead with them to trust themselves, and their bodies. To allow room for flexibility, intuition, and life. I was happy that it worked many times. I even had one woman go home and take a sledgehammer to her scale and send me a photo. YES!
I had so much compassion for these women. I’ve picked them up emotionally after that number beat the last bit of dignity they had left. I’ve cried with them. I’ve looked away from the number and let them have their space. And I’ve listened to hours, probably hundreds of hours of words of regret, how did I get here, shame, and sure, excuses. That’s the job of the person standing by the person on the scale. And, yes sometimes that scale also gave permission to celebrate…until the next day.
So, yesterday I did some work before going to the doctor. I reminded myself that I’ve already begun doing the work. In fact, I’m doing some hard shit being that I’m on day 64 alcohol free. I am back to doing the things I know work if they are done consistently, eating healthy food, exercise and getting great sleep. The only part of the formula missing is TIME.
I have already picked myself up, dusted myself off, and got back to the business of taking care of myself and my body. As I prepared to enter the office, I told myself that number is going to be. Be what? A number. Just let it be. That’s all. The only anger, shame, emotion, or blame that belongs to me because of that number is the anger, shame, emotion or blame I assign to it. And right now, before I enter, I am removing all meaning. It’s data. It’s a point from which to push off, and that is all.
Inside the doctors office I immediately met with the scale. I took a deep breath, stood tall (as tall as I can 😜), I looked at the number (about 10 pounds higher than I had guessed), and I walked on. No words to the person standing next to me. No, harsh words to myself. Just data. Deep breath. Onward.
I know where I am. I know what to do. I am doing it. And I am letting time take time.
Here’s why this is so hard. I’m a Health Coach. Being a Health Coach, with all the knowledge, training, and experience I have accumulated, in a season like I’m in can really start to work your confidence. But the reality is life happens to everyone. The last thing I wanted to do was share this. I wanted to hide, do the work, and show up once I felt “ready.” Let’s be honest, once I looked ready. But I can’t do that for two reasons.
First, even though none of them are reading this (really no one is – but it’s still therapeutic), I feel I owe this to some people. I owe it to the women who walked in before they were ready and trusted me. It takes courage and I am borrowing a bit of that courage and doing the same. I’m not waiting for carefully curated. I’m not worrying about “what people think.” I think I can do better being real than being ready.
Second, this is just how I roll. I have always ignored fear and done things before I was ready…to a fault. It’s a gift and a curse. Either way, here I am.
Going AF led me here. I don’t know if I would have made it here without the internal changes that getting alcohol out of my body and life created. But now, it’s time to build on that.
Lastly, I didn’t tell you my number not because I care, I don’t. But because I am keenly aware that it will invite comparison. Some of you would think it too much. Some would think it’s too little for all the drama. Some would use it to decide if you’re enough or too little, or if you think I’m enough or too little…or too much. I’ve been working with women all my life and I am one, I know the drill. Comparison is the thief of joy. So we’ll leave that unknown.
Let me just say this; I’ve never seen this number before and never ever thought I would. I am well passed my greatest pregnancy weight. And still…it is what it is. It’s time to do something about it because I want to feel great again. I already feel good again.
I’d love to hear your thoughts on scales, now that you know mine.
Onward.