Goodbye Scales!
I have talked about society’s comfort in discussing people’s body before and I took that opportunity to reassure people to be okay with their body. I also mentioned that I’m not a 100% okay with my body, and that I’m on a journey to get there. And on this journey, I have recently discovered something that annoys the living hell out of me – the weighing scale. I was an average kid – short, but my weight was average. I was also a sedentary kid, I hated and wiggled out of PE as much as I could. It just never appealed to me. Soon enough, things started to catch up, and I fell in the overweight category when I was 14.
And that’s where the battle with my body began. I didn’t use to care about how I looked or pine over celebrity magazines. But I started to hear the word fat more and more and more until one day, I just didn’t want to look at the mirror anymore. Within two years, I was buying a bunch of magazines and I was looking at the exercise routines listed by celebrities. I never got through them, that’s another story. But the obsession and fear was real. Chasing those images somehow only caused a “I’ll never look like that so screw it” attitude. I was getting bigger and bigger, and further and further from the images I so desperately wanted to be. I used to do the bare minimum in diet and exercise and check the weighing scale, and the difference was of course, non-existent.
I later signed up for yoga, and while there definitely was a difference, it wasn't enough for me considering where I wanted to be. One day, a colleague told me about Jillian Michaels and that weekend, I looked her up on YouTube and hit play on the first video I found. I was going to lose weight whether the universe liked it or not. I was determined! The reality? I pulled a muscle in my thighs within the first five minutes - I never did much exercise so it was a shock for my body despite the yoga! I cried a little bit from shame and a little bit from the knowledge that I was in the privacy of my own room, so the self-pity was affordable. Five minutes later, I pressed the play on the video and tried to do as much as I could for the remaining video. Over the following months, my priority became getting through the first circuit, the second circuit, etc. If there was a routine I couldn’t do, I subbed in sit ups or push ups. I wanted to be able to exercise non-stop for the entirety of the 45 minute video. Another few months down the road, I signed up for a trial at an all-female Muay Thai gym on a whim. I stuck it out for the entire 90 minute class, doing much better than I had expected and I was so proud of myself that I took a selfie right after the class with sweat and all. As a reminder if I had another relapse like those diets I tried. Soon, I was doing 90 minutes of Muay Thai, 70 mins of HIIT training, and 120 mins of yoga within a week. I was working the hardest I ever had physically in my entire life. After hearing quite a bit of “Hey! You look smaller” and “Hey! You lost weight!” and actually feeling lighter when I walk, I eagerly hopped up on the weighing scale.
Imagine my disappointment when I found out I had lost a paltry two kilograms. TWO. No, not since I had joined the gym. Since 2009, where I looked my physical heaviest. Years of getting more disciplined with what I put in my mouth, building myself up from being barely able to curl 2kgs (the irony) to doing deadlifts with 40kgs and the literal sweat and tears had created a loss of two kilograms. Initially, I thought the scale doesn’t lie. Maybe I really had only lost 2 kilograms.
So when my clothes first started getting looser, I thought they were stretching out in the wash. When a sales assistant told me I was picking out bras that were too big for me, measured me and gave me a much smaller size, I thought I must have been given the wrong measurement the first time round. I didn’t understand why my metal watch was getting looser on my wrist. Surely 2 kilograms can’t have caused my wrists to shrink this much! All because I was looking at the digits on the weighing scale.
Here’s the thing. I see a lot of people talk on Instagram about how they weigh the heaviest they have in their life while getting RIPPED. I, however, was considered obese. A 2 kg weight loss despite a drop of four sizes meant I was still obese. Here’s where things get even more annoying. BMI varies from country to country. I can stand to lose anywhere from seven to eleven kilograms to barely make it into the acceptable range of weight for my height. Not at a nice midpoint, at a bare minimum. And you know what, I really don't care anymore.
Don't get me wrong, I’m not giving up on myself. It’s just that now, I know my weight varies by as much as a kilogram within a month thanks to hormones. I have a bracelet on my arm for part spiritual, part religious reasons which tightens and loosens with the slightest changes in weight – I couldn’t have a better tracker. My clothes fit how they are supposed to fit, I now subconsciously make healthier options and I get antsy if I don’t work out. The girl who couldn't and didn't want to stick it out for 30 minutes of PE. The motivation is all from within now. I sleep better, I feel so light footed that I very nearly skip around and I’m starting to like what I see in the mirror. So if I’m happy and healthy, does a number on a scale really matter?
Ending things off with a little lolz. A gallery of me over the years! Fun fact! I HAD to wear the yellow t shirt to school and because I was so dark, I was mocked as a bumble bee. Since then I have an aversion for that colour.
Subscribe to my monthly newsletter, "Thendral's Telegraph" here!*
