It is really easy to get seduced by a number on the scale. Seduced into thinking first that this number means anything significant and second that this number is is some sort of measure of worth.
I am tall and have a good metabolism. I like to be active. Genetics have treated me fairly well. My body can, has and will do amazing things. The greatest of these things, hands down, has been bringing two perfect kids into the world. I do not underestimate the priviledge that that experience is. I am humbled by the opportunity and amazed at my own ability.
But.
But it changed, this body of mine. And on my bad days (I have bad days just like everybody else) I wonder despairingly if I will ever be happy with my shape and size again. I know I am not the only woman who plays these sort of mind games. It seems to be and unfortunate blight on the female brain to be perpetually unhappy with the state of our physiques. And that blight is nurtured, magnified and fed by the images we see all around us, reminding us over and over again that our numbers, no matter what they are, are wrong.
I have a beautiful little daughter who is every inch of perfect. And I know that it won't be very long before she starts dissecting herself into numbers, too, and using them to measure her self worth. I am working hard to make sure she doesn't see that sort of mindset modeled at home, and that every opportunity I get, I am working to counter the message that measures her as anything other than perfectly formed in the image of God.
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