The Porch Swing

I threw away my scale.

Well, it's not in the trash yet. It's on the back porch, waiting for trash day to come around, but it's not in the bathroom, tucked in the corner behind the toilet. It's out of sight, and for the first time in a while, it's not the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning. See, I came to the realization yesterday that every day for the past I don't know how many years has started with me dragging my sorry butt out of bed into the bathroom to shower. I strip off my clothes, step on the scale, and decide what kind of day it will be based on that number. Will I have to try to eat a smaller portion at lunch or dinner? Will I feel super guilty when I give in (and I KNOW I'll give in) and have that pumpkin spice latte? Will I be pleasantly surprised and then binge in celebration?

I'm tired of it. It's a number. A freaking number that I've allowed myself to become defined by on a daily, sometimes two or three times daily basis. I'm done. I'm tired of "changing my lifestyle". I'm tired of being part of that group that says we're dieting but when we go home we drink wine and have an extra large helping of mashed potatoes and then giggle the next day and say "Oh well! Today's a new day, right??"

That's no way of living. In fact, it's reckless. I've been casting aside the responsibility of taking care of myself because I make excuses and say I can try again tomorrow. It's not about tomorrow. It's about today, and living and breathing now. I am sick and tired of worrying. I have today's number, and another number from 8 years ago that was my goal. Well, 8 years ago, I didn't have a chest or hips. And I wouldn't trade either of those things today for a lower number.

I will eat what I want, exercise the way I enjoy to, and learn to stop feeling guilty about choices that I make. How are you supposed to enjoy living with the level of guilt that half of us carry around day to day?

So I'm done with numbers. Done with THE number. It feels fantastic!