It’s hard to see yourself accurately, hard to measure the distance you’ve come in something other than kilometres or minutes or pounds. It’s hard to learn how to evaluate your accomplishments based on how you feel or something equally abstract.
I get caught up in pounds and pace and critically eyeing up another woman’s body. And not in the good way, in a way that blinds myself against her flaws and my gifts and so I measure the best of her against the worst of me.
The weight, it keeps creeping on. And yet, I feel good and firm and fit and lean – so what gives?
You know, I would be happy if you never set foot on a scale ever again, Steve said to me last night.
Maybe it’s really time to let it all go – maybe it won’t be as hard as I fear, maybe it will even be downright liberating. Maybe just maybe, it’s the next step in learning to love myself, in looking in the mirror and seeing a strong and healthy woman. Maybe.
I don’t know how to measure success based on how I feel, but I suppose it’s time to learn. It’s time to accept that I am headed in the right direction. In just one year, I’ve changed from this:
without any damn difference in the scale.
But with a hue difference in how I perceive myself.
So here I go – letting go.