It’s 12:57am Saturday night (well Sunday morning) and after a boozy brunch ending in debauchery I’ve somehow made it home to my lovely new apartment.
I’m sitting on the toilet trying to stop the room spinning and suddenly something catches my eye…..
A set of bathroom scales.
oh my I didn’t expect this right here, right now. I keep looking over at them, suddenly feeling a desperate urge to stand on them.
A good idea because I haven’t stood on scales for 5 months (and been extremely happy with not doing so I hasten to add).
A good idea because I probably need to know how much weight I’ve put on since farm work.
And more importantly I probably need to judge my self worth of how much a number on a fucking set of scales tells me.
So on reflection, not really a great idea at all.
I spend the next ten minutes trying to talk myself down from the ledge and not letting myself fall into a potentially self destructive state of self loathing and hate.
Yes the number on the scales have crept up these last few months, yes my clothes do feel rather snug and yes sometimes I catch myself in the mirror and think bleughhhh. However, I’ve also drunk a hell of a lot of alcohol, ate some ridiculously good food and all in all have a bloody wonderful few months in Melbourne and Tassie with my friends and family so it is all worth it really.
I’ve also spent a lot of time and effort working on me and accepting who I am as a person, flaws and all.
A number on a scale really doesn’t define you and I’m so proud of myself for not jumping on those scales in a moment of madness.
I woke up Sunday hungover as hell, I enjoyed my breakfast, had a few spritzers, did some walking and didn’t give those scales a second thought. Although I’m quite sure if I would have stood on them (and actually remembered the number) It would have consumed for the whole day, if not the whole week.
We spend our whole lives being told by the media that we can not thrive unless we are slim. We won’t flourish in our careers, that we can’t wear fashionable clothes or manage to bag ourselves a sexy partner.
Everything is weighted (ironic) on our weight and how we look.
I love and adore my friends because of what is inside them, their passions, the way they laugh, the way the act when they’re drunk, their kind pure souls. Weight means nothing when someone is so wonderful in so many ways, so remember that and remember what makes you wonderful.
When you think of people you’ve loved over the years you’ll say “her smile lit up a room” not “she had a cracking bod” and I know which one I’d rather hear.