Overcoming Body Dysmorphia in the Age of Transformation
I look down at the numbers as they embark on their balancing act for the third time this week; it’s Wednesday after all.
I meet the glass pane every morning for our ritual: a ceremonial commencement of pride or shame for the day. Somehow my goals, my fears, and all of my decisions find a home in the reflection of the imperial figures staring back at me.
I wonder what it will be this time…I ponder as I slowly recount every bad decision from the day prior. Three extra chips than what we had weighed and tracked? Deplorable.
The numbers settle into place and so, too, do my thoughts with them. Relief washes over me with the realization that I made it 24 hours without another disruption to my progress. The jump from 137.6 to 139.4 really tripped me up last week; can’t let that happen again.
I step off the scale and continue my morning rites. The tone is set for my day as I prepare for the next 24-hour cycle ’til we meet again.
Keep me happy tomorrow.
One year of training. One year of Becoming. One year of …still judging my body by the numbers on a scale?
The goal is not to be “skinny.” The goal was never to be skinny.
I love my curves and everything that comes along with the bit of extra meat on my bones. I hope to never lose my softness.
The goal was and continues to be about the pursuit of my own happiness. Happiness through finding the physical strength I thought I had lost for 10 years after an injury.
Happiness through maintaining my discipline.
Through perseverance, confidence, alignment, presence, and most importantly- belief in myself.
My goal was about proving that I could show up every day with that purpose and intention in mind, no matter how difficult it got.
And not only did I accomplish what I set out to do, but I somehow managed to conquer goals I never knew I had.
Thirty pounds down and feeling like a new person, my self-esteem reached a new peak.
I’d vow to just about anything to make it last.
So, if I found what I was looking for, why does it feel like that’s not enough anymore? If it’s not about the numbers on the scale, why do I still feel a sense of failure when it’s been weeks without them showing a consistent descent?
It’s daunting to feel like a failure when I choose to eat in maintenance calories and not a deficit for a day. And when I only get 3–4 workouts in for the week as opposed to the 5–6 I used to do? Forget about it.
Why does maintaining feel like I’m giving up?
I ask myself these questions fairly often these days.
As I trudge alongside the ever-evolving nature of the mind, I try to find peace in my gratitude for how far I’ve come in the past year. A necessary practice for any transformation, I realize this to be the key to rerouting the path of my natural thoughts.
Though the temptation of destructive thinking continues to knock at my door, I’m learning to curve the ego-driven thoughts and prioritize finding my power in the moment- everything’s a decision when you break it down to its rawest form.
I can choose to let my my old insecurities dictate my present experiences, or I can choose to detach myself from them and react according to who I am now.
Looking in the mirror presents me with the opportunity to be kind or judgmental about the person staring back at me.
Free-will presents me with the opportunity to pick the perspective that sits best with who I want to be, both inwardly and out.
I continue to watch myself transform every day, sometimes through what feels like a two-way mirror, playing spectator to the sensory reel that is projected before me.
A strong mind, built over time, will lead me towards the lighter side by default every time.
Keeping me happy every day.
