I found myself needing to take some Prozac—an SSRI that was essential for my particular blend of medications. We chose Prozac, quite ironically, because all the other options were notorious for causing weight gain.
You’re welcome to chuckle at my predicament.
I wore dresses almost daily, so I didn’t notice the gradual tightening of jeans and the struggle with ill-fitting tops. I simply… gained weight. My size ballooned from an 8/9 to a 14/16, shifting from medium to XL/XXL. I convinced myself the XL dresses were snug because of my voluptuous double H cups, but that wasn’t the case.
One summer morning, I looked in the mirror and instinctively grabbed my protruding belly. Oh no, I thought. I’ve gained weight.
Not just any weight—weight that felt foreign to me. I used to weigh 120 pounds before having children, and I was now the size of the average American woman, fitting into the smallest offerings at Lane Bryant and Cacique.
After a mild panic, I impulsively tossed my Prozac, believing my other medications would manage without it (they did, but my psychiatrist wouldn’t endorse this approach). I thought stopping Prozac would magically help the weight just fall away.
That was wishful thinking. I lost about 10 pounds in water weight, but then the scale stagnated. I retrieved my ancient analog scale and stepped on it, and it read 180 pounds.
Stepping off, I couldn’t hold back the tears.
In 2016 America, as a woman, what do you do when the scale reveals a number like 180? You cry. You weep those big, heavy tears because even your tears feel hefty. I was even mistaken for being pregnant—twice.
“You don’t look like you weigh that much,” my friend Lisa remarked.
“Well, I do,” I snapped back. “The scale says so.”
I felt compelled to shed this weight. I adopted a strict, modified paleo diet and stuck to it religiously. I also started running, following a Couch to 5K program that had me running three times a week.
After two weeks, I stepped on the scale again. It still read 180 pounds.
I broke down. I remembered how I had looked after my second child, the double chin, the round face. I didn’t see it in the mirror, but it haunted my mind. The tears came harder.
Five weeks in, I noticed a change. My belly appeared smaller—small enough to avoid any pregnancy misunderstandings. I felt revitalized; I could run for eight minutes without stopping. My psychiatrist advised me to ditch the scale in favor of trusting my body. She was right; it was a healthier approach.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I stepped on the scale again. It stubbornly read 180 pounds. Frustrated, I kicked it under the dresser hard enough to bruise my toe. That was the last straw. My clothes fit better, my stomach was smaller, and I felt stronger. Perhaps I was losing weight while gaining muscle, or perhaps I was simply stuck at one number while my body transformed. Regardless, I was content.
That scale was taking up space I could use for something else, so I disposed of it. The feeling was liberating. I didn’t care if I wore Lane Bryant sizes forever; I looked and felt better.
Suddenly, I understood what truly mattered—no arbitrary number should dictate my self-worth. Before I fixated on that number, I felt good about my body. But seeing “180” shattered my confidence, igniting thoughts of liposuction and stomach staples.
Yet, despite my strict diet and consistent running, that number never changed. My clothes fit better, and I felt healthier. It dawned on me that the issue lay with the scale, not with me. Tossing it away was like severing ties with a toxic friendship. I realize the scale may work for some, but for me, it was harmful.
Similarly, the label “fat” carries negative connotations—lazy, unhealthy, unkempt. I am none of those things, so why should I accept those associations? Like the scale, I got rid of them.
Now, when I receive compliments on my appearance, I choose to embrace them.
If you’re interested in learning more about home insemination options, visit this link. For further insights on the topic, check out this authority site. Additionally, the CDC provides excellent resources related to pregnancy and home insemination that may be beneficial to you.
In summary, I liberated myself from the constraints of the scale, realizing that my self-esteem should not hinge on a fluctuating number. By focusing on how I feel in my body rather than what the scale says, I found empowerment and joy in my journey.