a weighty issue

I've struggled with my weight all my life, so it was no surprise to me this morning when I jumped on the scales and saw a number higher than I would have liked. Again. I'm incredibly proud of the weight I lost last year in the lead up to the wedding, a grand total of 13 kilos over 16 months. Most of all I was proud of how fit and healthy I felt. Not only did I not shudder every time I looked in the mirror (though I could still find plenty of perceived faults!) but I felt like I had taken control of my health and wellbeing, and had added years to my life through living a healthy lifestyle.

I have now put 2 of those kilos back on and I am seriously upset. I look at the numbers (and feel my jeans getting snug again) and I get seriously angry at myself for letting this happen. I look in the mirror and instead of feeling great I become morose, poking and pulling at all the squishy bits I detest. I'm hiding behind baggy layers again (thank god it's winter) and mentally berating myself every time I dare to eat the wrong thing or, god forbid, i'm too tired to be arsed doing Pilates for an hour. I've given my scales and my mirror the power to define my value as a human being, based on how I look and how much I weigh.

It's perverse. And I hate myself for it. Because I know better. I mean really, it's ridiculous. For a start, I'm still well within the healthy body weight range for my height. I'm also well past being a nubile teenager with a metabolism that could beat phar lap - it's inevitable that things are slowing down. I also ride 20kms 3 or 4 times a week, as well as fitting in a lot of walking, sometimes a run, sometimes some weights, sometimes some Pilates and sometimes an hour on my wii fit. I also eat mostly sensible, healthy foods. I rarely get sick, my skin is usually clear, I drink 2 litres of water every day, don't smoke and only drink alcohol 3 days a week. What the hell is wrong with me?!?!?! Why am I - a smart and healthy woman - allowing myself to be defined and valued based on my weight and the size of my hips.

As women we've been conditioned into thinking that our primary value is our appearance. We're told this every day through advertisements for cosmetics, body products, clothes, shoes. You name it, just about every ad aimed at women (apart from those ridiculous misogynistic ads that tell us women are the only ones who should be cooking, doing the shopping, and doing the cleaning - and smile the entire time while doing it) has one thing in common - the better you look, the greater your worth.

We're our own worst enemies too. It took me years to explain to my partner that women actually dress for other women, not for men. We dress to be accepted, to prove our worth through being beautiful, fashionable, valuable. And the worst thing is most of us are aware of the whole game to varying degrees. We KNOW we're being conned into thinking beauty = worth, but we accept it anyway. So we primp and prime ourselves, dress to literally impress, squeeze our curves into sucky-in undies, deprive ourselves of food we love and enjoy, flog ourselves at the gym and all other manner of measures.

I feel so torn. I really want to lose these pesky 2 kilos, but I also want to make sure I'm doing it for the right reasons, rather than just because they're the magical numbers that I value. I wish I could just say stuff it, I'm fit and healthy and will just continue to be so, it doesn't matter if I go up and down a couple of kilos. But I can't bring myself to. So what do I do? How do I reconcile these two things? It's more important to me that I look in the mirror and see 'me', not my pot-belly. So perhaps I can TRY and lose these 2 kilos, but not beat myself up if I don't. Would that work?

I have a holiday coming up in 10 weeks. This involves summery clothes, swimming, sight seeing, and generally getting my euro-chic freak on. What better motivation, right?! So perhaps I can try to lose it by then. And if not, no big deal. At least I tried. And did it by being healthy - in both my lifestyle and my perspective. Maybe just a little less cheese, maybe just a little more Pilates. And a little less time on the scales - my jeans will let me know!