My Weight Is A Mindfuck

As I get older, I have started giving less and less fucks about what people think about my body. I’ll change outside of the stalls and only cover enough that I don’t flash people. I can be naked in front of people and just be like….what’s up, this is my body, and not care if they may be judging my saggy boobs or stretch-marked stomach that also happens to carry all of my extra weight.

I went camping this weekend. I wore a bikini in public. I honestly don’t even think I wore a bikini as a kid (a tankini for sure though), and my mombod self was wearing one on the beach and also walking back to our campsite, giving zero fucks even though I was getting some side eye. I felt GOOD about myself. I forgot to shave my legs and honestly didn’t care that much.

I drank a lot of Twisted lemonade this weekend.

I drank a lot of Twisted lemonade this weekend.


Wearing a bikini in public, drinking in public (breaking the rules), giving zero fucks.

I didn’t really think too much about my diet. I didn’t go too crazy until the last day, and that was only because I drove my friend back to Edmonton and I have to constantly eat to keep myself awake on longer road trips -.-

I got home last night. I weighed myself this morning, and 201 was staring back at me. I was 197.2 on Thursday morning. Is it really possible that I gained 4lbs over the course of the weekend? Why do I put this much stock into the number on the scale? Maybe because after I finally hit 199, I thought that I’d never see 200 again (barring pregnancy)?

I thought back to how good I felt walking around in a bikini for the first time in my life…..why does seeing this number make me feel disgusting?


I have a feeling the simple answer is that I need to stop weighing myself…but I just CAN’T. Maybe once I eventually get to my goal weight and can go on maintenance I’ll weigh myself more infrequently, but for now, keeping a consistent eye on the fluctuations from day to day is what makes me feel like I have some control, when it goes down I feel accomplished, when it goes up I feel frustrated. I WISH I didn’t obsess about it so much, I see innumerable posts on my lady fitness groups about throwing away the scale and these beautiful buff women who apparently never weigh themselves.

I’ve spent the last year and a half steadfastly focusing on losing weight. Not weighing myself would mean that I’d be letting that focus go to waste. It may not be the healthiest thing in the world to be so obsessive about little electronic numbers that dictate whether I’ve been a good girl or a bad girl, but their very basic purpose is data. I NEED to know that I’m going the right direction.

I really don’t know what the point of this post was beyond that camping makes me fat and I make a lot of excuses about my need to weigh myself daily. Sigh.





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