I've lost weight ... and I don't care

Let’s talk about weight.

Ya know, that number that indicates your gravitational push on the mass of the earth. The one that so many women spend their lives trying to change, only to be disappointed to find that no matter how minimal their impact on the mass of the earth, their lives remain the same. The same issues in their lives still exist, because becoming smaller never made anyone happier on the inside.

When I was deep in my orthorexic days, I tried really hard to pretend like my weight didn’t matter, but in reality I wanted so badly to drop just a few more pounds.

A few more pounds, and my body would finally be “right”. It wouldn’t look so disproportionate. My curves would show in all the “right” places and I’d lose the chub in all the “wrong” places. A few more pounds, and others would finally love me. They would see that I’m dedicated to nutrition and fitness and that I really care about being healthy. Others would understand how it “should” be done and the results that they can achieve if they just try a little harder in the gym and kitchen. A few more pounds, and I would finally feel good about myself. I would finally get that dream life I wanted where I stopped craving sugar, where choosing the healthiest food was effortless and not a chore, where I woke up and felt light, free, and joyful. A life where the first task of my day wasn’t an ab check.

A few more pounds, and I would be worthy.

Damn. All this waiting on my gravitational push on the earth.

Sounds ridiculous when you call it what it is, right? Just a silly number. And I let it control my life for years.

A few weeks ago, I went to the doctor for a checkup and of course had to step on the scale as part of the appointment.

When I saw my weight on the scale, I was… curious.

“Hmm. I weigh less than I thought I did. Interesting.”

That’s it.

No celebration or expectation of my life changing now that I weighed less than I did before.

Just a simple stating of a fact and moving on.

How did I get here? How did I move from feeling cray cray around food, body checking constantly, and nightly binges … to just not giving a shit about my weight?

I started focusing on how I want to feel in my body, instead of trying to control what it looks like and the force that I put on the mass of the earth (my weight).

This process took time, but the more I focused on taking care of myself versus looking perfect, the less relevant the silly number on the scale became.

I started focusing on making that “dream life” happen TODAY, instead of waiting on the weight to make it happen for me.

I bought clothes that FIT ME and made me feel sexy and comfortable and beautiful, instead of waiting for my body to change in order to feel good in clothes.

I paid close attention to what my body was craving, and honored her needs.

I slowed down and stopped running when my body was asking for gentler movement like yoga, long walks, and dance.

I cooked nourishing recipes with lit candles and jazz music and stopped obsessively reading nutrition labels to determine what I was “allowed” to eat.

The more delicious my life became, the less I turned to food to give me joy. Binges became less frequent. I became more comfortable being with my funky feelings and not running to the fridge to eat over them. Suddenly, I was living that dream life, and my body was just along for the ride. It didn’t matter what I looked like. I was damn happy.

This is how this process works. Internal changes first, and if your body belongs at a different weight, she will get there on her own.

It all starts with a willingness to experiment and a deep trust that your happiness is not dependent on a number that we - truly - don’t have a ton of control over anyway.


I’d love to hear from you in the comments below. Are you waiting on the weight? What changes do you anticipate happening once you hit that goal number? Can you start making those shifts today?