My reflections on my no-weigh month

In a couple days, it will be one month since I agreed to say no to the scale for a whole 30 days. The first few days of not weighing, I felt anxious, like I wanted to just hop on and see what was going on. Since I had started boot camp three times a week, I had a hopeful feeling that the number would be lower – but then I remembered all the times I got on that scale thinking the number would be lower, and it was the same, or up, and it put me in a crappy mood for the next hour or two. The reason I decided to go no-weigh for a month was that it was getting discouraging to see the number not move. One bad weigh in and I was grumpy for the rest of the day, tempted to blow off my eating plans or exercise, because why did it matter? All that hard work and I was getting no where.

After the first few days of no weigh, I felt free. I didn’t hop on in nervous anticipation every morning. The scale became less of a mood-breaker and more of an annoying piece of furniture taking up space in my bedroom. It was liberating not to worry about a salty meal the night before, or if my exercise had “caught up” with me. I loved it. I loved being no weigh.

To help me keep track of my progress, I took all of my measurements the first day of no-weigh. I checked in today and did a re-measure, and I can say that I’m happy with the way things are going. At the end of this week, I’ll weigh myself and see what’s up. I don’t know what to expect. My fitness habits have been great, and I’m accomplishing major things fitness wise – running a mile without stopping, getting through 60 minute cardio sessions without dying, enjoying the healthy flush and spurt of energy that regular exercise gets me. Considering that I’ve just started a new job and am in my last month of grad school, my mood has been amazing. However, my eating has been more spotty with the last few weeks of school. This week, there were many days when I worked an 8 hour day, came home and immediately started working on my thesis, finishing up at 1 AM, snarfing down a few slices of pizza or going out to grab a Vietnamese noodle bowl with my husband. I haven’t been able to put as much thought and preparation into my meals, but I’m hoping my diligent exercise efforts have helped balance it out.

We’ll see how my weigh in goes at the end of this week, but if staying away from the number didn’t do too much damage, I might consider weighing myself less frequently. Over this long, long process, I’ve learned that you can FEEL skinny, FEEL fit, FEEL good – and not lose weight. But maybe you gained muscle. Or maybe you’re bloated. Or maybe you didn’t go to the bathroom. Or maybe you forgot to take off your bath robe. There are so many variables to what affects the number on the scale – and after my no-weigh month, I’m learning to give those variables less “room” in my daily life. Life happens. I don’t need a scale to tell me my worth, or what kind of day I’m going to have. I will choose to be conscious of my health by the way I feel – how I’m sleeping, my moods, my energy level, the color of my skin.

Have you ever considered doing a “no weigh”? Why or why not?



I can be a mean girl.

Greetings, friends! I can be a mean girl. Who, me? Yes, me! Read to find out why.

Y’all know I can be a little bit blunt. Sometimes, I lack a filter. It’s one of those traits of mine that’s either endearing or obnoxious, but as Lady Gaga says, I was born this way! Yesterday, my delightful friend Kelly came over for dinner. We were discussing Victoria’s Secret, and I complained that their bras don’t fit “fat-asses like me.”. “That is SO mean!”, she said. “What? That they don’t make my size?”, I asked, chewing my meatloaf nonchalantly. “No, that you would call yourself a fat ass! Even if you think it’s funny, how would you feel if I called you a fat ass?” I told her I’d kick her butt, and then I realized she’s right. It gave me some food for thought for a minute, until today when I blurted out that among the land of petite people (Asia), I would probably be a “large commodity”. My husband again pointed out that I was being mean to myself, and I thought, “Shucks! I AM being mean to myself.” Mean is not a trait I’d say I embody. I’m always the person who makes an effort to talk to the shy, to hold the door open, to compliment a new outfit. Sometimes I’m so nice it makes me angry with myself. But… Kelly pointed out that I’m a mean girl. To myself.

I am confident and pretty and usually feel attractive. So why am I calling myself mean names?

I usually consider myself extraordinarily positive with my self esteem. I know I’m attractive, beautiful even, and usually when I look in the mirror I feel good about myself – about my natural blonde curls, or my milky skin, or even the fine fringe of eyelashes that line my baby blues. Sadly, the negative thoughts I do have are always about my body. I’m always too big, or too fat, or thinking I’ll stand out because of my size. I’m a little bit early for New Year’s resolutions, but here’s one of the first for 2013 – Curb the negative self talk. It doesn’t help anybody and it certainly doesn’t make anyone laugh like I had hoped it would (ok, maybe my brother and sister laugh, but that’s only because we’ve made a national pastime about joking about our weight). Kelly and Matt are totally right – even if I make fun of myself in “humor”, somewhere, that message resonates with my brain and makes me feel even worse about it.

Rubens painted all of his ladies as full-figured and curvaceous. I was born in the wrong era!

So, the next time I complain about my rubenesque stature, I need to use words that are kinder. Not fat, not fat ass, not fatty, not huge, not gargantuan. More like, voluptuous, curvy, plus-sized, rubenesque, full-figured. Because even though my body may not fit into the ideal of what looks “pretty”, my body is pretty. I know this in my heart, and I need to make my thoughts match my mouth in the most positive way possible.

So let’s discuss – I’m sure I’m not the only female out there who has shamefully caught herself in negative self-talk. Do you ever find yourself dissing your body? Men, how about you?