173

173

Just a number. Just a number. Just a number. 

Three numbers in a row that tell you nothing about me. Nothing about my heart, my soul, my health. Three numbers that say nothing. That means nothing. 

But hearing them aloud pulls at me. I feel compelled to check my BMI. Compelled to know if it’s higher or lower than before. Compelled to know what this means about me. 

But it means nothing. Absolutely nothing. And yet it niggles at me as if it has importance. As if it means something about me. 

It means nothing. 

Three digits. A number. It’s not important. 

I know my worth has nothing to do with my weight, but still, it tugs at my self-worth as if it does.

I wrote the above after a doctor’s appointment where I was told my weight. I typically request not to know the number. I turn my back to the scale and close my eyes. This is usually enough of a cue not to hear the number.

But not this time. This time, they read the number aloud to me as if I needed to know. As if my eyes squeezed shut was not enough of an indicator to keep that number from me.

I heard the number and I spiraled. I was eager to know if this number was smaller or larger than the one from my last visit. I was dying to see if it was lower than it was a year ago, or two years ago, or if it was lower or higher than it was in this picture or that, or at this time or another. It became an obsession.

So I don’t want to know my weight. It isn’t healthy for me.

I go to the doctor, I move my body, I go to therapy. I do everything in my power to maintain my health, and I know that my weight is not a direct indicator of my overall well-being. It is not an indicator of my worth.

So if you feel yourself spiraling about your weight or the scale, take a breath. Remember that the number does not define you. It is just a number, not an indicator of your worth or your heart or the joy you bring to the world.