So there I stood in the doctor’s office, knowing what was coming next. The weigh in…like I was getting ready to fight in a UFC championship match.
When I started on my journey of healthy eating and reversing my pre-diabetes symptoms I knew the number on the scale meant way less to me than how I looked and felt everyday. I told myself that a number doesn’t define me and my journey…it doesn’t tell me how well i’m doing…i’m NOT going to get hung up on it. I did NOT get a starting weight for myself back in January for this exact reason.
So there I stood, about to step on the scale with the plan to turn around so I didn’t see it. Before I could look away the number flashed on the screen. 3 little numbers that I never wanted to know but accidentally saw because the nurse pressed the button before I could turn. 3 stupid fucking number that didn’t define me or my progress…3 numbers that made me doubt myself instantly.
You see, i’ve been doing extremely well with my eating- yes i eat the occasional thing I shouldn’t but i’m always back at it next meal. I didn’t want to worry about that number but I thought about it…ALL FUCKING DAY. I thought about it all throughout my exam, on my drive to IKEA, on my walk through IKEA, through the stores I went to after it, while talking to my friend…that number flashed in neon lights all damn day.
But hey, Nicole…you said you didn’t want to get hung up on a number- what did you do?
Well, girl…i’m human. I’m a woman that has had to recondition myself to believe that the number on the scale doesn’t define me- i’m the teenager that used to be the “IDEAL WEIGHT” that googled BMI calculators said I should be. I’m someone that takes a day but doesn’t let it ruin the rest of my week. That is who I AM. So that stupid number, I erased you when I went to sleep last night and this is the last time i’m even going to have you pass through my brain because you don’t define ME- you’re just a 3 digit number and i’m better than you.