Over the years, I’ve treated my body poorly – like an abusive partner, really. Demeaning. Degrading. Withholding and then asking for more and more and more.
In the past, I’ve thrown in the towel on what I had called a “weight loss journey” because my goal didn’t make sense: I didn’t really want to lose weight, I wanted to change my body composition and look better. But when we’re comparing our progress against the wrong criteria, we can’t be successful.
The pressure I feel to perform better across all aspects of my life is breathtakingly overwhelming.
In the past five years, my perspective on weight and, in particular, owning a scale has shifted.
If you were cautiously side-eyeing the Obituaries section of the news to make sure my name wasn’t there, I’d like to now assure you I am still very much alive.