I was training a client on Tuesday morning and I turned a caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
What happened next literally took my breath away.
There are days that I literally drive myself nuts analyzing my belly fat, the way my hips stick out, how my thighs are just too big for my height and how, no matter how much weight I lose, my behind never gets smaller. But, before I could even process one thought in my head, I look myself dead in the eye and said out loud to my client, “I am done trying to lose weight.” She said, “Tasha, you don’t need to lose any more weight.” And I hear that all the time. But she didn’t get it. No matter HOW small I’ve ever gotten, I always felt like I needed to be smaller. I needed to lose “five more pounds.” I needed to see “this number” on the scale in order to feel like what I was doing was successful. I needed to be able to fit in “this size dress” in order to feel like I have achieved something. What “I” needed was to set my own standard for my own life and be o.k. with that. And I had not done that. So, I decided to throw my scale away. Forever.
When I was in the fifth grade, I got my first pair of size 3/4 jeans. I am not sure I’ve ever worn any since then. I wore a size 6 dress pants to church on Sunday and they were loose in the waist. I woke up one day and decided to just run 8 miles and did it. I can teach three fitness classes a day, make one hell of a kale salad, still do a cartwheel, a split, both the South and Westside Percolator, salsa dance for three or four hours straight, do quite a few push-ups on my toes and get asked all of the time if I am my son’s sister. I have worn a size 24, couldn’t walk up a flight of stairs without practically needing an ambulance, had kidney infections from not drinking water period, was addicted to Dairy Queen, Church’s chicken, cheese danish and buy one get one free margaritas at Chili’s and didn’t even recognize myself when I looked in the mirror. WHY am I constantly trying to prove something that cannot be debated? I have successfully changed my life. I am not on a diet. I exercise and eat well and it’s what I do.
Sure, I have my off days but I don’t have off “weeks.” I don’t “fall off the wagon” because I have learned to drive it and not just be a passenger. This is my life. Life has ups and downs, just like a scale. And knowing that life is up and down and that I will recover from whatever down I have because I have the tools (not tricks) to get it together is what can keep me off the scale. Why do I need to be justified or condemned by a number? Or by someone else’s standards? Because the number that looks good on me doesn’t necessarily look the same or good on someone else.
I have some work to do. And there are some things that I would physically like to work harder on and make some improvement. However, living in a state of constant disdain for myself and my body is ridiculous. I am PROUD of what I have done and what I have been doing and what I am going to keep doing. I rock. The scale doesn’t. Someone else’s standards and ideas about what and who I should be don’t.
I am so over it.