Lessons from the Scale
One of my favorite lessons this year is being taught by my scale.
I never owned a scale until my best friend bought me a makeup mirror for Christmas years ago (which is like gifting me with earrings – I’ll simply never use it), so I exchanged it for a scale instead.
It used to stay in the basement, but my boyfriend likes to check in on his weight regularly, so I brought it upstairs for him. And of course, I now find myself on it more than I used to.
You know Abraham’s advice to only take measurements when you’re sure you’ll like what you see, right? Yeah, I follow that. It’s just too easy to be deflated by disappointing numbers.
Well, after a couple weeks of standing on it now and again, I discovered that if I moved the scale just a few inches, I got a completely different number. You’d laugh if you saw me pushing that thing all over the kitchen floor finding the highest and the lowest numbers. It was ridiculous.
At first I didn’t know what to make of it, but then I started getting frustrated. How was I supposed to know what I weighed?? I mean, I haven’t been to a doctor in years, and even if I remembered what they weighed me in at – that’s not too accurate with clothes on.
So how do I know how much I weigh?? What if I’ve been wrong all these years? How will I ever know my true weight?
And as I asked those questions, I then thought, “wow, what if I didn’t ever know?” And then … “what if it didn’t matter??”
What if I had no idea what different numbers “meant”? For that matter, what if I didn’t know my size? Or my measurements? Or how much money I made? Or how old I was?
What if I could live completely free from the meaning of the numbers in my life?
Wow … what if, huh?
(I say “YES!”)
So maybe it starts with that scale going back to the basement. Or better yet, in the giveaway box.
Or maybe I just keep it in the skinny spot. lol
I don’t know! Like I said, I’m still learning this lesson.
In the meantime, go ahead and ask me how old I am. I think I can have fun with that one. (hee hee)