It’s amazing how much shame is wrapped up in two numbers – my weight and my clothing size.
At 43, my metabolism has seen better, faster days. I have dieted, exercised and lost as much as 35 pounds at a stretch, but like brain-eating zombies, the pounds always come back.
I am not stupid. I know that losing weight is a numbers game – burn off more than you take in. Yet I haven’t been able to manage this simple equation to my advantage.
So I am going to try something new in the hope that trotting my shame out into the light of day might cause it to shrivel like a little raisin. I am going to admit to my actual weight and size right here in this blog (skip to the bottom if you just can’t wait!).
My whole body cringes when I think about people (certain skinny people in particular) knowing these numbers. This is showing-up-naked-to-school-in-the-middle-of-the-final-exam-you-didn’t-know-you-had horror. Sweaty palms, rapid pulse, the works.
Yes, I know that anyone with eyes can see how overweight I am without these numbers. Yes, I know the numbers don’t change anything about who I really am. Still.
Here goes. I am nearly 5’ 11”, and my medically recommended weight range is 134 – 177. As of this morning, I weighed 193 pounds. And while I have an array of sizes in my closet, the size that feels most comfortable is a 14. Let the shriveling begin. Hoo boy.