The quote “She remembered who she was, and the game changed” is attributed to author Lalah Delia. For many, a bathroom scale represents dreaded words and numbers that can disrupt a generally happy mood. People often look at guidelines and BMI charts with the thought that their weight should be lower.
It is common for a good day to be derailed by the simple thought of stepping on a scale. This leads to a question of how an inexpensive household device is allowed to dictate self-perception.
Many people, including the author of this account, have let the number on a scale determine their self-worth. This is widely recognized as a flawed metric, yet the belief persists that weighing less equates to being worth more.
Growing up in the 1990s, the author was influenced by magazines and the fashion industry to believe her ideal weight was 120 pounds. This number became a years-long pursuit, with daily weigh-ins taking precedence over how she felt physically. The goal was to reach that number, with the belief it would make everything right.
The pervasive message was to do more, eat less, and weigh less to become a more worthy person. Compliments on weight loss often followed, even when the methods led to feeling starved and exhausted. The contradiction between feeling terrible and seeing a “good” number on the scale never made logical sense.
The author took up running after her grandmother’s death, finding it a positive way to process grief through endorphins. However, the activity gradually took on a negative role when it became primarily a tool for becoming smaller. For years, the regimen was to run enough and eat little enough to maintain a low weight.
In her early twenties, being told her body fat was too low was worn as a badge of honor, a perspective that now seems unreasonable. Life changes, including four pregnancies, made controlling the scale’s number more difficult. Each postpartum period involved returning to running to lower her weight, a process that grew harder each time.
Even incorporating strength training was not for building strength, but for burning more calories. Every exercise was calculated around pleasing the scale, with no consideration for whether she was actually getting stronger.
A turning point came after a fall from a horse injured her ankle. Unable to run as before, she began strength training with a new goal: to be strong. The focus shifted from calorie burn to wanting to lift things, move things, and feel capable in her body.
An unexpected shift occurred when people commented she looked like she had lost weight, yet the scale showed a higher number. Her old jeans fit again, leading to a slow realization that the scale was not telling the whole story.
For years, she believed the scale was a truth-teller about health. She eventually understood it only measured gravity’s pull on her body at that moment. It could not measure strength, muscle, or capability.
As a nurse practitioner, she still weighs patients in clinical practice, as weight trends can matter for certain medical decisions. Her job is to help people become healthier, and weight can impact health. However, that number was never meant to determine whether someone should have a good day.
A scale does not measure resilience, energy, confidence, or strength. The author expresses frustration that the narrative she grew up with remains prevalent, seen in adolescent patients and the media her children consume.
She notes a frequent disparity in messaging: boys are often encouraged to become stronger, where a higher scale number from muscle is celebrated. Girls, however, often hear that smaller is better. She works daily to change that narrative, wanting her daughters and all girls to know that stronger is better.
The goal is to remind them that bodies are meant to be strong, healthy, and capable. Strength is built, not achieved by shrinking. There was a time when a small scale could dictate the author’s entire day, with numbers fluctuating due to hormones or water retention despite doing everything “right.”
Her perspective has changed. If she focuses on a number now, it is the amount of weight she can lift, such as her deadlift, squat, or bench press numbers. Those numbers tell a more meaningful story of effort, consistency, and tangible progress.
The day people stop letting the scale decide their worth may be the day they start appreciating what their bodies are truly capable of. The author believes it is time for that shift.