Just a Number...

They say that weight is just a number.  I think it's a weighty topic (do you see what I did there?).  It's one we all think about from time to time, but for some of us it's one that has a tremendous impact.  

I have been aware of my weight since middle school.  At that point I was a healthy weight, but as I started to go through puberty and my body started to change I was suddenly very aware of my hips and thighs.  Being a dancer meant I regularly got measured for costumes and often had those numbers called out loud in front of my whole dance class.  It was just a matter of time before I'd become not just aware, but overly focused on, my weight.  

I look back on that time and wish I still had that body.  Don't we all?  I was strong.  I had stamina.  I was flexible - well, more flexible than I am now.  I danced multiple hours a day every day.  I could walk into any shop and find clothes that I felt good wearing.  

It all started to shift when I was in college.  I was still dancing every day, but mostly modern and ballet.  Tap, and the aerobic workout it offered, wasn't an option in my college's dance program at the time (that's since been remedied).  Unlimited access to a dining hall with many options lead to consuming more calories than I was burning.  Add in some serious emotional eating (my mom had a liver transplant in the middle of my freshman year of college, then I was in a very unhealthy relationship during my junior and senior years) and I started watching the numbers (weight, measurements, clothing size) climb.  

Graduating and becoming an adult made things worse.  That bad relationship?  It continued for another 9 months, leading me to subconsciously and very intentionally put on weight in a effort to make myself less attractive so that maybe everything would stop.  Not only was I a first year teacher, but I was a 12 month employee at a year-round school, and since I was technically a sub for the first several months (I was replacing someone going out on maternity leave) I wasn't earning any leave and only a fraction of a paycheck.  I ate what was cheap and easy - aka a lot of hamburger helper.  Then my grandmother spent some time in Duke Hospital before dying in December.  I'd typically teach all day, then leave school to drive to Duke, then go home to sleep and start all over again the next morning.  I existed on fast food.  In half a year I went from a size 16 to a size 24.  

My self worth plummeted.  The world is not kind to fat people.  The dance world is flat out cruel.  When I introduce myself as a dance teacher I typically get "the look".  Most of the time it's just a look, but sometimes there are words.  I remember one time a great aunt of mine asking, "But do you really teach dance, Rachel?  Because if you did you wouldn't look like that, would you?"  It soon became a chicken or egg situation - was my self esteem so low because of my weight, or was I so heavy because my self esteem was so low?  Unfortunately, it's all tangled up together.  

6 years ago I stepped onto the scale and saw a number that terrified me.  Living with John meant living with someone who loved food - he loved cooking it and eating it, and he wanted me to enjoy it, too.  He lovingly bought me things he knew I enjoyed, not knowing that I didn't buy them for myself because I knew I couldn't eat them mindfully (hello, Doritos).  He didn't care about my size, but he also didn't understand that it didn't just physically weigh me down, it emotionally weighed me down, too.  My clothes were getting tighter, and I'd been avoiding the scale.  But that day I pulled it out of the cabinet, stepped on it, and was stunned at the number.  

It's 6 years later.  I'm still overweight.  I still don't get enough exercise, I still don't have a healthy relationship with food, and I still have emotional issues that get in the way of both.  But today I stepped on the scale and saw a new number.  As of today I am exactly 50 pounds lighter than I was that day 6 years ago.  I may not have lost it quickly, and I still have more to go, but I lost 50 pounds.  

I'm a different person that I was 50 pounds ago.  When I'm at my sister's house I take great joy in being able to run up the stairs.  When I get dressed I'm thankful to be wearing smaller clothes.  When I feel down I'm so thankful for the people in my life who tell me how beautiful I am, not just on the outside but because of who I am and the gifts I bring to the world.  When I look at pictures of myself I now see someone who is physically and emotionally stronger than she was 6, or even 2, years ago.  I see someone who is doing the work to be emotionally healthier.  I see someone who has been through so much adversity, yet keeps getting up every morning.  

50 pounds.  It's just a number.  But I'm going to celebrate it.  Because it represents so much more.