Six months ago, my former body existed at a considerably larger size. Yet the greatest change occurred between a three month spurt. Since then, the movement towards smaller has been limited. Although there are inclinations from the experts that as you reach milestones the pace declines steadily, many who dig deep defy the odds and succeed in far greater degrees than the mainstream. Those individuals’ speed to the finish line increases, separates them from the pack, and incredibly defines them as victors in the race for weight loss and fitness.
My aim, although wishful, hopeful, increasingly prayerful, is to be like these individuals (aka, freaks of nature). The goal is consistently not about the number of pounds, but instead my decreasing size, increased strength, and appealing image I perceive myself to be, when I glance in the mirror, clothe my body, and dance through life like no one’s watching. That result is the ultimate self-care gift to myself for knowing my worth and self-acceptance in the world, and to maintain this outcome for the rest of my life.
Times in my life when I felt more ‘me’ than I have ever been, when bombarding the world with self-confidence, was when I was a size six/eight. Though those memories recollect short-lived experiences, they resonate something I want for myself. The number on a scale cannot equate to the feeling of being a size that exudes beauty within. Whatever that size is for each person differs greatly. What matters is being the person that reflects your inner beauty. Size matters when it brings out the best in you!
Although my success cannot be measured by an inanimate object, the scale’s reign continues to plague me with its number, ultimately taunting, praising, and/or impeding my progress by its momentary emotional result. When I witness that number popping up for a weekly weigh in, I cringe with elation or despair. Either result causes an emotional response. Enabling the scale’s heightened influence weighs on my psyche, affecting my results.
It creates doubt as it descends slowly or wavers on a plateau. My confidence weakens with a slow decline, causing me to reassess all activities contributing to losses. Should I tweak, change, or alter my behavior? Is there something interfering directly or indirectly? Am I constipated, my hormonal cycle looming, a heavy meal contributing to a slow progression to my goal? Have a strayed from the exercise, food, or guidelines set before me?
I look for non-scale signs of progress, looser clothing, body measurements and fat percentages decreasing, belt notches changing, or energy levels lifting. Yet without my size literally changing, and the scale showing a downward trend, confidence declines in the process. The scale still holds the greatest, negative power that I have yet to release. A victory is letting the number, the scale, and anything resembling such measurement vanish from my existence. Allowing it to remain a tool in the protocol of loss or gain measurement is an unhealthy unit that ought to be banned from the shed. It serves no positive purpose currently. When I release its power, its irrelevance illuminated, I will have scaled a major victory.