Beyond the scale
Hopped on the scale this morning, and I did NOT like the bright red number staring back at me.
I’ll admit, I’m still kinda inclined to tie my fitness and health to the number on the scale. I’ve read plenty of articles that tell me not to get attached to the number. I’ve even had personal trainers tell me the same. But, for some reason I just keep hopping on the scale. Obsessing over the darn scale. I have even written a few blogs about my scale obsession in the past — claiming I was going to free myself of the obsession. The scale obsession. Why? Oh, why? Am I still obsessing over the numbers, the scale. Honestly, I don’t know.
What I do know: I’ve been cycling like crazy the last several weeks and I have cycling buns to prove it. Yup, that’s right my tush is getting tight, my legs are toning up, and I can see a nice definition in my calves. And I feel good. So whatever scale. I can’t and won’t be detoured. I’ll keep riding. Riding hard, and one day not only will I have the sleek, toned body of a cyclist, but the numbers on the scale will decrease too.
In the meantime, I’ll keep reminding myself: Everyday I cycle and eat right I’m becoming fitter, healthier, and stronger. It’s time to look beyond the scale.
Chrisetta Mosley
I am a product – and now a survivor – of childhood obesity. As a child, my family always told me that my extra weight was merely baby fat and I’d eventually grow out of it. I never did. Instead, my childhood is filled with memories of not being able to ride a bike, flattening its training wheels from being over the recommended weight, and avoiding P.E. classes by any means necessary. For years, I wore my fatness like a wounded soldier wears a Purple Heart - with pride. I owned the look. I dressed it up. I worked the room. There wasn't a skinny girl who intimidated me. I made sure my hair was laid just right. Nails polished. Outfits coordinated to the tee. Accessories to compliment every outfit. But everyone has a breaking point, and mine came in the spring of 2004 when I tipped the scale at nearly 400 pounds 388 to be exact. I was MISERABLE trapped inside of that body. I no longer wore my Purple Heart with pride. Rather, I was ashamed and frightened. Ashamed that I had allowed food to become my everything – frightened I would die because of it. Drastic times called for drastic measures... Today, I’m bound and determined to live a better, healthier, active lifestyle. I realize I’m no longer a passenger in my life, I’m the driver. I’m overcoming my inhibitions and I’m slowly but surely saying farewell to my old childhood nemesis, obesity. For once and for all, Farewell Fatso!