Thanksgiving break was the first time I had gone home in almost six weeks. On my first night, I realized that I had of course forgotten toothpaste and went to my mom's bathroom to borrow hers. After brushing my teeth, I noticed something my mom had in her bathroom that I didn't. A scale. I weighed myself and realized that in a little less than two months I had gained more weight than I had ever had on my body.

I still don't really know how I feel about the extra pounds. It's really difficult to tell yourself that you're beautiful when you're bigger than you've ever been. But loving yourself is a process and it's something that I'm trying to dedicate myself to right now.

I've realized that there are a few things I need to realize before I recognize my weight. Like the fact that this has been my busiest, toughest semester yet and I've hardly had time to sleep, let alone spend an hour cooking myself healthy meals or carving out time to go to the gym. I've accomplished a lot in the past two months and gaining weight was an unfortunate byproduct that I need to accept.

At the end of the day, my body has carried me pretty far. It walks me to class and work. It keeps me alive every day no matter what. In reality, I should work to take better care of it and I will.

Seeing my weight was enough of a wake-up call for me to recognize that there are parts of my life that I need to change. But at the same time, my body is meant to be used and changed.

There's a lot of pressure in the world to somehow live the perfect life and have the perfect body and perfect eating habits all the time. That's just not realistic. As the last week has passed, I've realized that my body almost deserves to be awarded for gaining a little weight.

It still kept me going. It put up with sleepless nights and more stress than I could ever imagine. It loved me and I love it.

I'm happy I have a body that survives. Sure it's changing and growing in ways that I don't always like, but I've actually never been happier with it until I looked at my weight. I'm trying to remember that my weight doesn't have to define me and a bigger number doesn't have to be a bad thing. It's just a fact of life. I am still worth love and respect and so is my body. In fact, I'm more proud of myself than ever before. I've gotten through a lot these past few months and I'm happier for it. I'm happier that my body can still change and still live.

There are worse things in this world. And now I know why I'll never keep a scale in my bathroom.