Yesterday, I did something out of the ordinary: I hopped on the scale. I can’t pinpoint what drove me to retrieve that digital device from its hiding place and place my bare, unpolished feet on its dusty surface, but I did. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself.
Then I glanced down.
The number staring back at me was shocking. It was disheartening and disappointing. I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. However, it wasn’t the number itself that troubled me. It wasn’t about it being “too high” or “too low.”
The issue was that I was even looking at it. The real problem was that I chose to “weigh in” at all.
We exist in a world dominated by numbers, where our worth is quantified by digits. Your beauty is often judged by the size of your clothes or the measurements on a tag. Your value is evaluated based on your income, the fashion you wear, and the car you drive. Even your self-worth is reflected in the number of likes on your social media posts or the friends you collect online. Years ago, after grappling with an eating disorder and body image issues, I made a promise to myself: to stop letting such metrics define me. I decided to wholeheartedly embrace who I am.
Yet, there I was, standing on the scale.
There I was, feeling distraught.
There I was, judging my own body—this same body that recovered remarkably from spinal surgery 16 years ago, the body that brought a beautiful daughter into the world three years back, the same “thick thighs” that have carried me through countless races, from 5ks to marathons.
Instead of celebrating my body, I was belittling it.
Instead of honoring my physique, I was scrutinizing it.
Instead of practicing self-love, I was pursuing unrealistic ideals, all because of a single number—the one on that scale.
You might be thinking, “You’re beautiful! You’re slender! What do you have to worry about?” But beauty is subjective. Where you see a toned body, I see a pair of jeans that hide imperfections. I see a physique that feels too boyish, legs deemed too muscular, and a chest that’s disappointingly flat. While you might perceive the “perfect body” as a size 0, I focus on my flaws. This is the issue, not just for me but for many of us, shaped by a beauty-obsessed culture that glorifies filters, Photoshop, and endless solutions to appear younger or slimmer.
Let’s be honest: I know a single blog post won’t revolutionize societal standards. I can’t change the culture with just a social media update. But I hope to inspire even one girl, one young woman, or one lady who struggles with self-acceptance because of a number—whether it’s a clothing size or a scale reading. I aim to connect with someone who avoids social gatherings, dreads getting dressed, or feels ashamed of their appearance.
I want to change my own mindset too.
To all the women out there who despise their hips, regret their curves, or wish for a flatter stomach or fewer stretch marks: you are beautiful.
I know you might not see it. You might not feel it. You may never hear someone say, “You are beautiful,” but I’m telling you that you are. Beauty isn’t confined to a size or shape; it isn’t determined by your outfit, weight, or makeup. True beauty lies in authenticity, strength, and confidence—being unapologetically you.
Even when you’re not feeling your best.
Even when you’re covered in baby spit-up or sweat.
Even when your clothes are old and tattered.
Wear your weight, your mismatched clothes, and those stains as badges of honor. They symbolize your courage. Remember, you are incredible. You are beautiful. You are more than enough.
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In summary, you might not realize it, but you are beautiful just as you are, regardless of numbers or societal expectations. Embrace yourself in all your unique glory.