It's Just a Number

Further to my post yesterday morning, I had yet another lapse of memory.

In the last few craze-filled weeks of over-doing, under-sleeping and forgetting to eat ... I started wondering if I lost any weight throughout that process. So I stepped on the scale.

What did I see when my weight appeared before me? I saw numbers. I couldn't remember the old number. I couldn't remember the goal weight. It was just a number.

A few days ago, I was lamenting about needing to lose weight. And someone asked me why I thought that. My immediate (and only) answer was because I needed to be able to fit into my new ballgown for our dance showcase in the fall.

I bought a beautiful, new ballgown while I was living my Great Dance Adventure. It fit like a glove. I was at an excitement-induced, forgetting-to-eat, all-time-low weight when I bought that dress. Lately, I haven't been able to wear the pants that I wore during that trip. So I am a little concerned. Will I ever be able to wear that dress again?

Other than that one reason, I am content with the weight that I am at. I am who I am and I'll buy clothes that fit (and hopefully flatter) the body that I have been given. I am not obsessing about my weight these days.

So when I stepped on the scale yesterday morning and looked down at those meaningless numbers ... I felt a little bit of deja vu. It was the same feeling that I had, when I walked out of the grocery store and had no memory of ever parking the car. I got where I wanted to be with no conscious effort. I'm at a weight that I'm content with. The numbers on the scale? Meaningless.

Does anyone want to buy a beautiful new ballgown??