"The number on the scale doesn’t matter."
No, screw that. The number on the scale matters. I know it's "how you look and feel, not the weight," but it still has an effect.
That number can ruin part of my day and I hate to admit that. I always look at it when it’s particularly high and think "it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter," but then I walk into my room and think, "it does" when my shorts don’t fit. I think "it does matter" when I get undressed and I see a version of myself that I hadn't noticed came for a visit. I think "it matters" when my underwear make me feel like the Michelin Man.
I know that the number I see on the scale doesn't determine my worth, it doesn't express who I am as a person, it doesn't show all of my accomplishments, and it sure as hell doesn't make me beautiful or ugly, but that number matters to me. It matters because when I see myself at my heaviest weight all I can think of is "maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that McDonald's three months ago, maybe I shouldn't have looked at that cheesecake last night."
These thoughts, however, only last for a few brief moments. After the initial first few moments of anguish I step foot into my sanctuary: the gym. I think about that number, I look at the girls who have that hamstrings I desire and how I will go about getting them for myself, I think about the nutrients I'll be giving my body later in the day, and I hit the weights. I hit them harder than I ever have. I use that number, it pushes me, it holds me accountable more than any person, Instagram post, or potential reward ever could. I turn the initial negativity into positive motivation and it becomes what drives me. That number pushes me into the body I desire.
That number never ceases to lack worth to me, even when I am at peak performance. I love weighing in and finding out how much I have maintained, how much I’ve gained back, now in muscle. I have a love/hate relationship with that silly number on the scale.
If it wasn't for that number I would have never found a passion for lifting weights, for the smell of iron on my hands, for the feeling of sweat dripping down my temples. I love what that number has pushed me to become and continues to push me to become every time I fall off of my horse. It's always pushing me to get back up and keep going.
That number doesn't have to matter to everyone, it doesn’t have to be your motivator or a discouragement hanging over your head. In fact that number should never make you feel negatively for long periods of time, and if it does, channel that negativity into something amazing.
My body changes, the number exists, life gets crazy, and I can't do anything but go with the flow, but when I jump back on my horse? It's full speed ahead.
