“She remembers who she was and the game changed.” ~ La La Delia
Scale. Those scary words and those scary numbers. It can cause fear in the hearts of happy people. We look at guidelines and BMI charts and always think “it should be lower”.
Have you ever had a perfect day and immediately thought “Maybe I have to weigh myself?” And so your day is ruined.
How do we let the $ 20 bathroom scale determine our mood?
I remember stepping on the scale and seeing the numbers that determine how I value myself. A funny way to measure our value. But many of us do. Somewhere along the way, we began to believe that if we were underweight, what would we do? Is More.
I grew up in the 1990s and I remember being told I should weigh 120 pounds. Thanks to Seventeen Magazine and the fashion industry. Well, I’m not high. But that number has become what I have been looking for for years. I weighed myself religiously every day. I do not care if I have energy or feel good. What matters is the numbers on the scale. If I could just reach a number that was hard to understand, that would all be right with the world.
All around me the message is the same: do more, eat less, lose less weight. If I could reach that number, somehow I would be the most worthy version for myself.
People will supplement weight loss without realizing that I am always hungry and tired. I feel terrible, but the numbers on the scale are good. It never made sense.
At that time, I escaped after losing my grandmother. Endorphins have given me a positive way to deal with depression. Running helped me process the pain. But then, as a good thing, often doing it becomes a negative thing.
I also knew something else – it made me smaller.
For whatever reason, it makes me feel good about myself. So over the years I have learned that if I run enough and eat less, I can stay small. I remember being told in my 20s that my body fat was too low. At the time, I wore it as a badge of honor. Looking back now, it seems a bit ridiculous.
Of course, life has a changing path. After four pregnancies, the numbers on the scale become more difficult to control. Each time I gained weight, I would go back to running to try to keep my weight down. After each pregnancy, it gets harder.
Even when I added strength training, it was not about strength training. It is about burning more calories. Everything revolves around numerical satisfaction on a scale. If I had to jump jacks between exercises to burn more calories, I did. I never thought, would I be stronger or not? Frankly, it does not matter.
Then something unexpected happened.
After falling off my horse, injuring my ankle — and my pride — I could not run like I used to. Instead, I started training strength from elsewhere. I did not train to burn calories. I trained to be strong. If I can not run, I still need to be able to move well.
I want to lift things. Move objects. Feeling capable in my body.
And then something strange started to happen. People started telling me that I seemed to be losing weight.
But when I walked on the scale, the numbers did not fall. In fact, it has gone up.
I remember thinking “That’s weird … my scale says this, but my old jeans fit again.”
Gradually it shone on me.
Maybe the scale didn’t tell the whole story.
For years, I believed the scale told the truth about my health. All I know, though, is that it’s just telling me how much gravity was pulling at me that morning. It cannot measure strength. It cannot measure muscle. It can not measure how capable I am.
As a nurse practitioner, I still weigh patients in my clinical practice. Weight trends can be problematic in certain situations and sometimes help guide medical decisions. It can affect your health and my job is to keep you healthy.
But that number never makes sense in determining whether someone should have a good day.
It does not measure resilience.
It does not measure energy.
It does not measure reliability or strength.
What disappointed me the most was that the same storytelling I had grown up with was still alive and well. I see it in my teen patients. I see it in the media where my kids are exposed.
Boys are often encouraged to be stronger and more capable. Higher numbers on the scale are even celebrated if it means they are building muscle.
Girls always hear different messages. Smaller is better. I work every day to change that description. I want all my daughters to know that being strong is better.
I try to remind them of something I wish I had understood before: our body means strength, health and ability. Strength is what we build, not what we shrink ourselves.
I remember when that small bathroom scale could determine what kind of day I would have. That amount could rise to 5 5 overnight from hormones or hydration even though I did everything “right” the day before.
Now I see it differently.
If I were to focus on numbers, I would focus on the amount of weight I could lift.
Numbers on my deadlift. Numbers on my seat. The number on my press chair.
Those numbers tell a more meaningful story. They represent hard work, consistency and progress that really reflects the work being done.
And perhaps the day we stop allowing the scale to reach our values is the last day we begin to value what our bodies are really capable of. I think it’s time.
About Shannon McDonald
Shannon McDonald is a nurse and co-nutrition trainer who helps mid-life women regain energy and build strength through her “Strong + Steady” approach. With over 20 years of nurse experience, she has guided women to work with their bodies through protein optimization and strength training rather than restrictive diets. Shannon combines therapeutic skills with faith-based beliefs from her home in Nebraska, where she trades shoes for boots between work sessions and clients. Visit her at navigatingtowellness.com.
