“He remembered who he was and the game changed.” ~Lalah Delia
The scale. Those dreaded words and those dreaded numbers. It can strike fear into the heart of any normally happy person. We look at the guidelines and BMI charts and always think “it should be lower.”
Have you ever had a perfectly good day and suddenly thought, “Maybe I should measure myself?” And just like that, your day is ruined.
How can we let a $20 bathroom scale dictate how we feel?
I remember stepping on the scale and seeing numbers that somehow defined how I valued myself. What a ridiculous way to measure our worth. Yet a lot of us do it. Somewhere we start to believe that if we push less, somehow are more.
Growing up in the 1990s, I remember being told I had to be 120 pounds. Thank you, Seventeen Magazine and the fashion industry. It’s true, I’m not tall. But that number became something I chased for years. I measured myself religiously every day. I didn’t care if I had energy or if I felt good. The number counted on the scale. If I could reach that elusive number, all would be right with the world.
All around me, the message was the same: do more, eat less, weigh less. If I could somehow reach that number, I would be the most worthy version of myself.
People would supplement the weight loss and not realize that I was often starving and exhausted. I felt terrible, but my number on the scale was good. It never made sense.
I started running around that time after losing my grandmother. Endorphins treated grief in a positive way. Running helped me process the pain. But then, as good things often do, it turned into something negative.
I also realized something else – it made me smaller.
For whatever reason, it made me feel better. So I learned over many years that if I run enough and eat little, I can stay small. I remember being told in my early twenties that my body fat was too low. At the time, I wore this as a badge of honor. Looking back now, it seems a bit ridiculous.
Life naturally changes things. After four pregnancies, the number on the scale became more difficult. Every time my weight started creeping up, I went back to running to try to get the number back down. It got harder after each pregnancy.
Even when I added strength training, it wasn’t about building strength. It was about burning more calories. Everything revolved around pleasing the number on the scale. If I had to do jumping jacks between each exercise to burn more calories, I did it. I never thought about getting stronger. Honestly, it didn’t matter.
Then something unexpected happened.
After falling off my horse and injuring my ankle—and my pride—I couldn’t run the way I used to. Instead, I started strength training from a different place. I didn’t train to burn calories. I trained to be strong. If I couldn’t run, I still had to be able to move well.
I wanted to kick things up a notch. Move things around. Feel capable in my body.
And then something strange started to happen. People have told me I look like I’ve lost weight.
But when I stepped on the scale, the number didn’t go down. It actually rose.
I remember thinking “It’s weird… my scale says so, but my old jeans fit again.”
It slowly occurred to me.
Maybe the scale didn’t tell the whole story.
For years, I thought the scale told me the truth about my health. In the end, I realized that it just told me how much gravity was pulling my body that morning. The force could not be measured. He couldn’t measure the muscle. He couldn’t measure how fit my body had become.
As a nurse practitioner, I continue to assess patients in my clinical practice. Weight trend can matter in some situations and sometimes helps with medical decisions. It can affect your health and my job is to make you healthier.
But that number was never meant to define a person’s good day.
It does not measure flexibility.
It does not measure energy.
It doesn’t measure confidence or strength.
What frustrates me the most is realizing that the same narrative I grew up with is still alive and well. I see this in my adolescent patients. I see it in the media my kids are exposed to.
Boys are often encouraged to be stronger and more talented. A higher number on the scale is even to be celebrated if it means they are building muscle.
Girls often hear a different message. Smaller is better. I work daily to change this narrative. I want my girls and all girls to know that stronger is better.
I try to remind them of something I wish I had understood earlier: our bodies need to be strong, healthy and fit. Strength is something we build, not something we shrink into.
I remember when that little bathroom scale could tell me what kind of day I was going to have. My number can jump five pounds overnight from hormones or water retention, even if I did everything “right” the day before.
I see it differently now.
If I’m going to focus on a number, I’d rather focus on the weight I can lift.
The number on my lift. The number on my squat. The number is on my bench press.
These numbers tell a much more meaningful story. They represent effort, consistency and progress that actually reflect the work done.
And maybe the day we stop letting the scale decide our worth is the day we finally start appreciating what our bodies are capable of. I think it’s about time.
About Shannon McDonald
Shannon McDonald is a registered nurse and holistic nutrition consultant who uses the “Strong + Steady” method to help middle-aged women restore energy and build strength. With more than 20 years of nursing experience, she guides women to work with their bodies with protein optimization and progressive strength training instead of restrictive dieting. Shannon integrates clinical expertise with faith-based wellness principles from her Nebraska ranch, where she trades scrubs for mud boots between work and client sessions. Visit it at navigatingtowellness.com.
