Not the same.
Last night as I stood in the “Urban Fit” class filled with woman of all ages, sizes, colors and shapes it became clear to me that who I was in the past is no longer who I am today. I walked into the room like I belonged, my head held high. When I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I stood strong, part of a synchronized lift of barbells above our heads almost in a warrior stance, I did not turn away from looking at myself. I did not feel shame, I did not hate myself or wish I was someone else other than who I was looking at in the mirror. The excess skin hangs from the bottom of my arms from being stretched beyond measure over the years, but the tops are formed and muscular from the past several months working hard to let go of the past and break through the walls that have held me back. I can see the defined muscles in my legs from running, and my neck and face do not look back at me with extra chins anymore. I watch myself in the mirror lift the bar to my chest and flip my wrists and raise the bar with such power above my head. It is beautiful, I feel beautiful and strong. I am grateful to be me.
I stood on the scale this morning at Dr. B’s office, as I gently stepped up the digital numbers flutter around then settle on three familiar numbers, they are the exact same numbers from two weeks ago. The scale would suggest I am the same. I will tell you the scale is wrong, I am not the same. I know this because there were no tears, no thoughts of what a failure I am and no reason to apologize. I have worked so hard the past two weeks but not as hard as I will work the next to weeks. The numbers will come, I must have faith in that at this point. The road between the distance I have to travel is not based on the number, it can’t be. I know this now.
“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.” Nelson Mandela