When I started this blog, the barriers that I pictured myself discussing were plateaus – I just can’t master a pull-up or a double under, I have a stubborn trouble area that I can’t seem to impact, etc. I really did not picture myself covering topics like mommy bullying, being an advocate for counseling or detailing my journey travelling for a long-term assignment for work.
I fully expect when I am past this stage of life (having a child), I am sure I will return to my intense goals and want to pursue the most fit version of myself possible. But for right now, my current barrier that I am overcoming is this…
Every other time in your life, an ever expanding body is reason for concern. Ummm…I weighed 130 this week and now weigh 135. WHAT THE HECK? During this odd time that is pregnancy, I have read a lot about the “right” way to gain weight, how much to gain, when to gain, etc. Having a history of an eating disorder, I cannot tell you how many counseling appointments my therapist has suggested that I get rid of my scale, for once and for all. She’ll remind me, like truly I already know:
What really is in a number?
Does a number accurately assess our strength?
Is a number a true prediction of fitness level?
If you have achieved your “goal weight” and yet cannot run a mile or do a full pushup, is that your ideal size? I think not. But…for every ideal image I have of dramatically throwing a bonfire and in a final burst of empowerment, burning my scale once and for all, I don’t. You see, for as much as I hate to admit it – I care. I care about that stupid number. Every bit of me hates how much I care.
I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday. I am 23 weeks pregnant. I have gained 15 pounds. Great, they exclaimed! You are right on track. Try to not increase your speed of gaining, but, stay consistent. All I could hear was my number. I hate that number. I get it, I know that weight gain is so important for a healthy pregnancy and the most important thing at this point is that I do everything in my power to have a healthy pregnancy.
However, a life of caring does not immediately go away because the goals for a period of time have changed.
So, how do I plan to overcome this barrier? Writing it helps. I re-read my words and remind myself of the incredible thing my body is doing. I feel my baby move and know that growth is occurring. Today I will work out, eat to fuel my body and promise myself to give myself a break.
Will I ever stop caring? I really do hope so. I have people around me that love me for me, and could care less what number is on the scale. What I want to pass on to my children is how to really love yourself and your body. I hope to achieve that, I really do. But for today? I just care a tiny bit less.