In January 2025, as I resumed exercise post-op, I decided to sign up for the Transformation Challenge at OrangeTheory Fitness where I’ve been a member since the previous summer. It was a last-minute decision. In fact, I was influenced into it as someone else was signing up while I was changing into my boots after a class and I said, “I’ll sign up, too, why not!” I’d only done two classes since returning to the gym after my surgery, and I thought the challenge might be a good way to get motivated.

The rules were pretty simple:

• Minimum 3 workouts a week in-studio
• Complete 6 of 8 weeks of the challenge

Pre-surgery, I was regularly hitting 5 workouts a week so 3 seemed like a doable (and maybe even easy?) target. A couple of days later, I had my InBody Scan and the challenge kicked off a week later.

Upon signup, each Challenger chose their goal: Lose body fat or gain muscle. I decided that it was pretty unlikely that I’d lose any weight since I’m not carrying much excess, but I was eager to regain some muscle I’d lost during recovery.

I had no idea I would gain 3 pounds, making for a 5.24% increase in muscle mass. And you can just imagine my surprise to be named the WINNER of the challenge!

Six months later, I haven’t slowed down much, and I’m currently enrolled in the second “transformation challenge” of the year – this time 6 weeks in length, with the same general rules:

• Minimum 3 workouts a week in-studio
• Complete 5 of the 6 weeks
• No goal set – two winners in each category (Muscle Increase, Fat Loss, Combined)

I love the gym. I was thrilled to win the TC in March, and it’s been a point of real pride for me that I had such a great result – not least because I worked REALLY hard.

But, what I wasn’t prepared for was the way the number on the scale – that 3lb increase – would mess with my psyche. I weigh the most I have ever weighed, outside of F’s first two years, and being pregnant with the two little guys. Before my surgery, I weighed about 124lbs. Now? I’m hanging out just below 130lbs most of the time. And it’s a number that spins around in my head.

Even though I know better.

Even though I know the scale doesn’t matter.

Even though I know I’m in arguably the best shape of my life.

Even though I feel (and look) strong.

I rarely weigh myself, and for many years I actually avoided the scale because it was too triggering. While pregnant the last two times, I would regularly ask not to be told my weight. I try to focus on how my clothes fit and how my body feels instead. Because I know better. Because the scale doesn’t matter.

Months on from that TC win, the 3lb increase continues to teeter between “wow, I can’t believe I gained all that muscle!” and “wow, I can’t believe I weigh this much”. With InBody scans, I can at least see what the number of the scale is made up of but years of believing I needed to weigh 120lbs or less aren’t easy to shake.

It’s a reminder of how pervasive the diet culture and bullshit we spent our entire youth being fed really is, and how it stays with us no matter how much unlearning we do.