For as long as I can remember, my weight was the biggest secret I kept. I wouldn’t tell my parents, my friends, & for a long time, I refused to even allow my doctor to weigh me. I, who am pretty open about everything & rarely embarrassed, was being controlled by a number that really doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things.
After losing 80+ pounds, I’m still overweight. And my weight is still not a great number. But it’s certainly an improvement from where I was a few years ago.
Several months ago, I went for a walk with my best friend. And before that walk, I had planned that I was going to tell her my weight. She knew that was a huge deal for me. And it was. Saying the number outloud felt like the bravest thing I’d done in a long time. I felt like I’d regained some control by saying it.
Within the last several months, I’ve seen several doctors for various overdue checkups. At each doctor, I talked frankly about both my current weight & where I had came from. I was met with no judgement but instead, praise for how far I’d come & the current state of my health.
And this week, I opened up to my boyfriend, sharing old photos of my larger self before he knew me. I told him my current & former weight. He was unphased. His opinion of me hadn’t changed as a result of this irrelevant information.
I’m still not ready to share my weight with strangers or yell it off the rooftop. But it’s no longer a deep, dark, shameful secret. It no longer has power over me & that is a beautiful thing.