I am back down to my pre-pregnancy weight. Back down to what I weighed ten years ago. Close to what I weighed for my wedding. But I am still ten pounds heavier than I was in college. Twenty pounds heavier than I was in high school.
I am wearing the same size clothes, though. I walked in to the Gap the other day and bought a pair of size six skinny jeans. Didn’t try them on in the store, they fit perfectly. Where is that 20 pounds? And if I lost it, would I look like a stick? My high school friend tells me I look the same now as I did then, if not better. Thanks, babe. Did my bones get heavier? My hair is longer! Maybe it’s that? #itisnotthat
At the end of the day, I need to remember that life is about being healthy and happy and not about one specific number on the scale. The reality is, to ever return to my high school weight I would have to go back down the scary rabbit hole of not eating and taking a no-doze before running on the treadmill like a crazy person. And I don’t want to do that. I am no where near that. But where are those 20 pounds?
The scale is good as a tool. But those three little numbers don’t tell the whole story. The truth is, my body tells my story – as a spin instructor once said: it is my visual resume. My arms are strong – thanks yoga! My belly is soft – thanks J&G. My legs are pretty fabulous – thanks mom. When my belly makes a smiley face at me during rabbit pose, I actually smile back. It’s a reminder of the fact that I am a mom.
Besides, my confidence at 38 is ten times what it was at 18. I would never have worn white skinny jeans. Or shared my thoughts in a blog. Or posted pictures of myself trying some new inversion on Instagram. I would still like to know where that 20 pounds are hiding.
It has to be the hair.