Tag: NotJustAboutTheScale - Page 7

#NotJustAboutTheScale

MysticMeanderer

When the Scale Finally Moved

I used to joke that my body was immune to change. For years, I hovered just above 100 pounds, no matter what I ate or skipped. I never worried about jeans fitting or calories adding up. I thought I was lucky. Then, one morning at 25, the scale read 120. I stared at the number, waiting for it to mean something. My hands shook. I tried to decide if I should feel proud, or scared, or both. My body looked different—softer, fuller, more like the women I’d always compared myself to. But I didn’t feel like I’d arrived anywhere. I keep thinking about how long it took for my body to change, and how quickly my mind started to question if it was allowed. #BodyCheckChronicles #NotJustAboutTheScale #FoodGuilt #Health #Diet

VerdantVoyage

The Sweets My Parents Never Let Me Have

I stand in my parents’ kitchen, staring at the mountain of candy and cookies. Raspberry hard candy, cheddar nuggets, brittle, jelly beans. I remember being a kid and how sugar was rationed, how dessert was a reward, not a habit. Now, at 89, my mom eats whatever she wants. Sometimes I envy her. Sometimes I judge her. Sometimes I wish I could let myself off the hook the way she does—no counting, no guilt, just eating because it tastes good and she’s still here. The bananas are mine. I tell myself it’s about health, but really, it’s about control. I wonder if I’ll ever stop keeping score. #FoodGuilt #ControlIsExhausting #NotJustAboutTheScale #Health #Diet

PhenomenalPhoenix

When Gaining Weight Meant Gaining Strength

Tonight, I stood in the garden, spade in hand, and realized my body could finally do something it never managed before. I pressed down and the blade sank straight through the turf. For years, I was too light—always calling for help, always feeling small in ways that had nothing to do with height. I used to chase a number on the scale, thinking lighter meant better. But here I am, heavier, and for once I didn’t need to ask anyone else to finish the job. My back aches, but it’s a good ache. I’m not sure I love this body yet, but I’m learning to respect what it can do. Maybe strength isn’t about control. Maybe it’s about letting go, just enough to see what grows. #BodyCheckChronicles #NotJustAboutTheScale #StrengthInChange #Health #Diet

GlobalGiraffe

The Night I Couldn't Swallow the Truth

I sat at the kitchen table, picking at cold rice, rehearsing the words in my head. My parents were in the next room, laughing at some TV show. I wondered if they’d still laugh if they knew how much it hurt to eat in front of them. I wanted to tell them everything—the counting, the hiding, the fear that every meal was a test I was failing. But I kept thinking, what if they don’t understand? What if they think it’s just a phase, or worse, their fault? I told myself I’d wait for the right moment. But the truth is, there’s never a right moment to say, "I don’t know how to eat without hating myself." Sometimes, the hardest part isn’t asking for help. It’s admitting you need it. #FoodGuilt #NotJustAboutTheScale #ControlIsExhausting #Health #Diet

CoralCaptain

When Chocolate Feels Like a Secret

Every night, I tell myself I’ll skip the chocolate. Every night, I don’t. I eat my eggs, my vegetables, drink the water—check all the boxes. But then I open the cupboard, and it’s like I’m on autopilot, breaking off piece after piece, not even tasting the last one before the next is in my mouth. I haven’t gained weight. The scale says I’m fine. But I still feel like I’m hiding something—like the chocolate is proof I’m not as in control as I look. I wonder if anyone else eats with this quiet, constant guilt. If anyone else feels like a fraud for being “healthy” but needing sugar to get through the day. #FoodGuilt #ControlIsExhausting #NotJustAboutTheScale #Health #Diet

GoldenGrotto

Cooking From a Chair, Still Hungry for Control

I used to love cooking. Now, every meal starts with a calculation: how much energy do I have, how much pain will this cost? I sit at the counter, knife in hand, and try to remember what it felt like to move without thinking about consequences. I measure out ingredients with shaking hands, not because I want to be precise, but because I’m afraid of wasting what little I can do. Some days, the microwave feels like defeat. Other days, it’s the only way I eat at all. People say, "Just do what you can." They don’t see the guilt that comes with every shortcut, or the way I stare at my plate, wishing I could taste pride instead of compromise. #ControlIsExhausting #InvisibleStruggles #NotJustAboutTheScale #Health #Diet

TemporalTraveler

When “Simple” Meant Safe

I used to read about the Tarahumara—how they lived on beans and pinole, how it sounded so clean, so simple. I thought maybe if I ate like that, I’d finally stop thinking about food all the time. But simple didn’t mean easy. Every meal felt like a test: did I pick the right thing, did I eat too much, is this what healthy is supposed to feel like? I told myself it was about saving money, but really, it was about control. The fewer choices, the less I could mess up. I kept waiting for my body to feel light, for my mind to quiet down. But all I felt was hungry, and guilty for being hungry. #FoodGuilt #ControlIsExhausting #NotJustAboutTheScale #Health #Diet

WhirlwindWhale

I Grew Up on Beige Food. Now What?

Some nights, I still stare at my plate—chicken, rice, maybe corn—and wonder if I’m making up for something I missed, or just repeating it. I used to think eating the same five foods was just being picky. But now, every time I try to add something new, it feels like a test I’m failing. I’m not sure if my body’s stuck in the past, or if it’s just my mind that can’t move on. People say you can fix it by eating better now. But no one talks about how weird it feels to realize you never learned what real hunger or fullness is supposed to feel like. #FoodHistory #StillLearning #NotJustAboutTheScale #Health #Diet

DragonflyJive

I Drank Banana Water to Feel in Control

I started making banana water because it felt like a small, harmless ritual—something I could control. Chop, soak, wait. I read somewhere it might help me sleep, and that sounded like a fix I could measure. But the truth is, I didn’t care about the potassium or the science. I cared about the quiet. About the way the routine distracted me from the numbers in my head—the calories, the ounces, the endless math of being enough. Some nights, I’d stand in the kitchen, watching the peels turn brown, breathing in the weird, sweet smell. I told myself it was healthy. I never admitted I was just tired of being hungry for something I couldn’t name. #ControlIsExhausting #FoodGuilt #NotJustAboutTheScale #Health #Diet

GregariousGiraffe

The Tape Measure Never Measured Shame

Every Sunday, I stand in the bathroom with a tape measure. Neck, waist, hips. The numbers are supposed to tell me something about health, but mostly they tell me how much space I take up. I pull the tape snug, not too tight. I breathe out and try not to think about the last meal I ate. The math is supposed to be objective, but I know the formula by heart, and I know what number will make me feel like I failed. I write the measurements down. I pretend it’s just data, but the truth is, I measure more than my body. I measure my worth, my control, my ability to stay small. The tape never lies, but it never comforts, either. #BodyCheckChronicles #ControlIsExhausting #NotJustAboutTheScale #Health #Diet

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