Women are always reading or talking about their numbers.
Numbers of years they’ve lived.
Number of gray hairs they’ve found.
Numbers rising on the scale.
I feel and have mostly felt throughout my own life of numbers that it’s craziness when we boil our lives down to numbers (particularly those looking back at us from a scale), that in the end mean nothing.
I can say this with certainty because twice now I’ve thought I was a goner from this world. When you are nose to nose with your mortality, the last thing you think about are the numbers on a scale.
I heard a discussion on numbers and how they define us. Particularly, numbers pertaining to women’s age and weight.
The crux of the conversation was this: Women HATE to tell folks how old they are or what they weigh, because if the numbers don’t jive with what society deems acceptable, women feel diminished.
The women in the group hesitated to reveal their age/weight, looked uncomfortable, and actually squirmed. If they took too long to offer their numbers, the other ladies chided them! “TELL US!”
It was like watching junkies needing a fix. (I’ve seen things – mostly on the show Intervention.)
My reaction to the conversation was: This is important? Why are people asking in the first place? Why does it matter?
Ain’t nobody’s business. It’s akin to asking how much a person earns. And, seriously, don’t we have bigger issues in front of us than age and weight?
What the hell is going on that women still think this is a worthy topic to mull?
Do I care how old I am? Hell no. In fact, I feel the exact opposite. Every year I’m granted, I rejoice. “ANOTHER YEAR! WHOO-HOO!”
I’ve experienced the pain of friends dying too young, so I know that life is short, and it’s a privilege to grow old.
We all know this culture is youth oriented, but I can’t concern myself over vapid leanings; I’ve got real life to live, no matter what my age.
The weight matter? Another number that doesn’t define you, man or woman.
When I was younger I was concerned with my weight number.
Was it too high (at the most: 160 plus)? Was it too low (at the lowest: 118)?
Did it change who I was at my core at either end? No. Did it make me miserable obsessing about the number I sought? Immensely.
As a gal who has more years behind her, as I’ve witnessed chronic illness in some and death for others in my age-group, I am at peace with whatever number is on that scale.
My point of view is this: As long as I can move through life with strength and energy, what do I care what the scale tells me? Why let a number shape how I feel about myself, when I know how I feel about myself?
I eat well, exercise regularly and pay attention to my health.
I also enjoy cake, an occasion umbrelly drink and double-meat cheeseburgers.
I want to live fully; I intend to live fully.
Youth has it’s advantages, but so does age. I think it’s time, TIME PEOPLE!, to embrace ourselves whatever our numbers may be.
We are worthy and valuable no matter our age, no matter our weight, no matter our any-number. We are amazing and it’s time to recognize.
I get that some may not be happy with their weight, either high or low, but to say that the number defines you is setting the limbo bar on the ground and not even giving yourself a chance to play.
Don’t you want to play? Come on! Limbo is fun! (especially if the umbrelly drankity dranks are flowing!)
As I listened to the wide range of women lament their age and weight, I felt sad. Aren’t we more than this? AREN’T WE?!
When asked how to get past the mindset of weight, age, ~your thang here~, I offer:
Simply be you, baby.
The world awaits your confidence – your spunk – your thoughts on art or food or ~your thang here~.
By being you, which by the way, ain’t no other in the world, you’re offering others originality and daring.
Yes, there will be days that will come back to the numbers, but I offer we have as few of those as possible. I say we try like hell to shed the skin of what society (by and large US!) expects and simply be.
Won’t that be something!
What say you? Have I lost my mind or am I annoyed for good reason?
I eagerly await your thoughts.
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