“He remembered who he was, and the game changed.” ~Lalah Delia
Scale. Those scary words and those scary numbers. It can strike fear into the heart of any normally happy person. We look at BMI guidelines and charts and always think, “It has to be low.”
Have you ever had a great day and suddenly thought, “Maybe I should weigh myself?” And just like that, your day is ruined.
How do we let the $20 private scale control how we feel about ourselves?
I remember stepping on the scale and seeing numbers that somehow determined how I valued myself. What a ridiculous way to measure our worth. Yet many of us do. Somewhere along the way we start to believe that if we weigh less, somehow there is More.
I grew up in the 1990s, and I remember being told that I should weigh 120 pounds. Thank you, Seventeen Magazine and the fashion industry. Admittedly, I’m not tall. But that number became something I chased for years. I religiously weighed myself every day. I didn’t care if I was strong or if I felt good. What mattered was the number on the scale. If only I could reach that mysterious number, all would be right with the world.
All around me, the message was the same: do more, eat less, and weigh less. If only I could reach that number, somehow, I would be the most suitable type for myself.
People helped me lose weight, not realizing that I was often hungry and tired. I felt bad, but the number on the scale was good. It didn’t make sense.
At that time, I had started running after the death of my grandmother. Endorphins give me a great way to deal with grief. Running helped me process the pain. But then, as good things often do, it turned out to be bad.
I noticed something else—it made me smaller.
Whatever the reason, it made me feel better about myself. So over the years, I learned that if I exercised enough and ate little, I could stay slim. I remember being told in my early twenties that my body fat was too low. At the time, I wore that as a badge of honor. Looking back now, it seems a bit of a joke.
Of course, life has a way of changing things. After four pregnancies, the number on the scale was difficult to control. Each time my weight went up, I went back to running to try to get the number back down. After each pregnancy it was difficult.
Even though I added strength training, it wasn’t strength building. It was about burning more calories. Everything revolved around pleasing the number on the scale. If I had to do jumping jacks in between every workout to burn extra calories, I did it. I never thought about whether I was strong. To be honest, it didn’t mean anything.
Then something unexpected happened.
After my horse fell and injured my ankle—and my pride—I couldn’t run as well as I used to. Instead, I started strength training from a different place. I wasn’t training to burn calories. I was training to be strong. If I couldn’t run, I still had to be able to move well.
I wanted to raise things. Move things. I feel it in my body.
Then something strange started to happen. People started telling me that I looked like I had lost weight.
But when I stepped on the scale, the number hadn’t gone down. In fact, it had increased.
I remember thinking, “That’s weird… my scale says this, but my old jeans fit again.”
Slowly, it dawned on me.
Maybe the scale wasn’t telling the whole story.
For years I believed that the scale was telling the truth about my health. What I finally realized was that it was only telling me how much gravity was pulling on my body that morning. Could not measure power. Could not measure muscle. It was impossible to measure how strong my body was.
As a nurse, I still assess patients in my clinical practice. Weight trends can be important in certain situations, and sometimes help guide medical decisions. It can affect your health, and my job is to make you healthy.
But that number was never meant to determine whether a person should have a good day.
It does not measure intensity.
It is not equal power.
It does not measure confidence or strength.
What saddens me the most is to see that the same story I grew up with is still alive. I see it in my adolescent patients. I see my children portrayed in the media.
Boys are often encouraged to be strong and successful. A higher value on the scale should be celebrated if it means they are building muscle.
Girls often hear a different message. Less is better. I work every day to change that narrative. I want my daughters and all girls to know that stronger is better.
I try to remind them of something I wish I had understood earlier: our bodies are made to be strong, healthy, and capable. Strength is something we build, not something we deprive ourselves of.
I remember when that little bathroom scale would determine what kind of day I would have. The number can jump up five pounds overnight from hormones or water retention, even if I did everything “right” the day before.
Now I see it differently.
If I’m going to focus on a number, I’d rather focus on the amount of weight I can lift.
The number on my deadlift. The number in my squat. The number on my bench press.
Those numbers tell a more meaningful story. They represent effort, consistency, and progress that truly reflect the work being done.
And maybe the day we stop letting the scale determine our worth is the day we finally start appreciating what our bodies are truly capable of. I think it’s time.
About Shannon McDonald
Shannon McDonald is a Nurse Practitioner and holistic nutrition coach who helps middle aged women regain strength and build strength using her “Strong + Strong” method. With more than 20 years of nursing experience, she guides women to work on their bodies by using protein and improving strength training rather than using restrictive diets. Shannon combines clinical expertise with faith-based health principles in her Nebraska home, where she trades boot scrubbers between work sessions with clients. Visit her at navigatingtowellness.com.
