When I was a pre-teen/teenager, the scale played a pretty central part of my life. Even now, I remember how much I weighed when I was 12 (140 lbs), 14 (98 lbs), 18 (128 lbs). I had this imaginary number in my head (115lbs). If I was over, I weighed too much. If I was under, I was safe. As I got older, I stopped weighing myself obsessively and learned to slowly accept myself. Funny enough, my weight stabilized as a result and it has remained the same for the most of my 20's.
During my last term of nursing school, I lost weight. It was a combination of adjusting to shift work and the stress of school. I was exhausted and cold all the time. Yesterday, I weighed myself and realized I weigh 8 lbs more than I did then (3 months later). A small part of me slightly panicked because I haven't weighed this much in years. Given it's only a few pounds over my norm. And then the rational part of me took over.
I feel great.
My clothes still fit me. If anything, my pants fit better around my legs (they used to just hang) because I'm developing muscle. I can do squats and pushups. I increased my dumbbell weights. I'm trying to make working out part of my life. I have way more energy than I did three months ago.
And I realized, weight is a number. It's a number just like how many pushups I can do in a row, stairs I can climb, distance I can go.
Off topic, but it's been sunny in Vancouver. No rain and it's warm. Amazing. Don't judge me but I totally drove to the gym and did cardio (20 mins on stairmaster, 40 mins on bike) even though I have a bicycle at home and I know a place outdoors that has a good set of stairs I can climb. Oh well.