I have never been considered a skinny girl. People say to me a lot, "Oh Kaylee! You're not fat at all!" And I know that. I do. But I didn't always. I have been pear shaped since about the day I turned 13 and my jeans have never been smaller than a size six. I'm 5'4" and I will never look like Taylor Swift. These are the facts.

I was a round elementary schooler. I remember bragging to my father that I could eat more than him for dinner. (Sidebar: I've also never been a great loser). As it turned out, I could eat as much as a 35-year-old man when I was 10. *Bragging rights achieved*

Before I started middle school my mom got very concerned about me. She tried to be helpful and guide me toward a healthier lifestyle. I just thought she thought I was fat. This was terrifying to preteen me. I was close to heading off to the magical land of lockers, lip gloss, and cute boys and I was fat. It shattered my self-confidence and I spent almost every moment wondering if that was all people thought about me.

Age 13 hit me and I thinned out a little with the onset of puberty. And my hips came in like a wrecking ball. My thighs got thicker and I had no idea what to do with myself. I remember sitting on the edge of my chair in class so that no one could see their mass expand when they touched the plastic seat.

High school added a level of stress that turned my nervous eating habit into a real problem. I probably gained 40 pounds my freshman year of high school. I lived for food because it brought me solace. I felt horrible all the time and I felt even worse when I looked in the mirror.

Trying to get back into shape meant that I had a problem, and I wasn't about to admit that. I gained the weight and fed my selfish need to be right. That summer I rode the line between squeezing into my old jeans or buying plus-sized clothing. I squeezed.

I finally realized it was time to make a change. I cut out snacking and discretely limited my portion sizes. With just those two things, I lost about 35 pounds in my sophomore year of high school while barely trying. It was invigorating. Losing weight was magical. I didn't want to stop.

During my junior year of high school I dieted a lot. I would go weeks of eating just fruits or vegetables. I weighed myself every day. I started to obsess over the half pound I gained overnight. It was never enough. I started running three miles every morning. I got a calorie counter on my phone and logged every morsel I ate. My recommended daily calorie intake was 1,200 calories to maintain regular weight loss. I hovered around 600 per day. At that point I had dropped almost six sizes in two years. My weight goal was still 25 pounds away, but I was killing myself.

The daily three mile run took a toll on my body and I got injured. And then I got sick.

The stress of my senior year of high school messed with my hormones and I gained several of those pounds back. It was devastating. I maintained to eat salad after salad for my meals to counteract that. The stress and the lettuce wore away at my stomach lining until I had almost none left (lettuce never forget). I was almost constantly in pain. The only advice the doctors had for me was to eat soft and easy-to-digest foods. These weren't particularly low in calories.

I gained weight back that year and there was literally nothing I could do about it. When I went to college I was super self-conscious about my curvy figure, but then I made some really great friends. They were so encouraging and always told me how beautiful I was, no matter what I weighed. I learned how to dress for my body type and love the way I look. Around this time, I realized that I had a problem with body image, and I slid my scale under my bed.

For years and years I had been in bondage to the number on the scale. Either it was too high or it wasn't dropping fast enough. That number defined me. It was all I thought about. It was almost all I cared about. I didn't want to be a slave to my scale anymore.

It's been two years and I haven't stepped on a scale since. I have no clue what I weigh, but I love my body. My identity is not in my body type or the number on a scale. I'm worth so much more than that.

I don't plan to get on a scale again until I know that I can handle it. I still don't feel ready. This is a journey. One step at a time. All I know is that freeing myself from my scale allowed me to stop caring so much about myself and help me to pay attention to other people. And that's why I don't weigh myself anymore.