Some numbers I learnt to disregard, and the one I have not

Post written by Orsolya Hernold

Throughout my teenage years, I was constantly putting myself on different diets. I tried every idea I heard or read. I measured myself frequently and the number on the scale, my weight, was defining how I felt on that day.

Then I spent 6 months in Africa where basically I was living on white rice–as a result this number got out of my control. After my return, I remember staring at a magazine ad of a model and felt miserable. I was aware of the efforts of my teenage years and how futile they have been. I gave up. I was not interested in stepping on the scale anymore because I knew it will screw my day.

Then came my dismay: this number has a hold on me and decides what mood I am in. What a realization!

In 2000, I vowed never to step on a scale anymore. (The only exception I made was during my first pregnancy. In the first months, I was quite cooperative, and doctors needed numbers, but since there was no reference number from the time before pregnancy, I convinced them that there is no use in weighing me.) During the last 15 years I have been sometimes heavier and sometimes lighter (two pregnancies included), and I was sometimes upset and sometimes happy about how I look. But there was no number defining my days anymore.

Numbers are signposts, are worth to examine, since they can influence my life. Just to name a few: the balance of my bank account, my age, the number of readers of my posts. Do they define me? How? What would I be without this number?

And for you:


And, oh yes, I am still on board, very much far from being perfect or content – my bra size still haunts me.


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