Numbers

Rationally, I know that a number on a scale is nothing more than that. A number. Nothing more, nothing less. Despite trying to convince ourselves otherwise, numbers are too often what we use to measure our worth both personally and professionally. What size pants do you wear? How many kids do you have? How much money do you have? How much money do you need? How many times did you exercise this week? Professionally (for me) it means how many donor calls/visits did I make? How much money did I raise? How many new/lapsed/renewed donors are in my portfolio? The list of numbers that I use to measure my success (or failure) is endless.

There are some numbers I am willing to share (how much money I raised at work this year, how many times I exercised this week) and there are some numbers that you couldn't beat out of me you tried. I can count on one hand the number of people who know what I weighed before I started WW, or what I weigh now. Occasionally, my son will come with me to WW and I make him turn his head away from the scale, less I have to answer questions about how much I weigh, relative to him.

The fact that I am actively trying to lose weight (and get healthy) is hardly a secret. Generally speaking, friends and family have been supportive of my efforts. Which I very much appreciate. And I am often asked, quite directly, how much weight I have lost. Of all the numbers I use to measure my worth, this number should be one that I am thrilled to share. Instead, I hesitate. I'll answer the question, but rarely do I answer it specifically. I  might say, "about XXX pounds," or I'll vaguely answer the questions but add the caveat that "I've be at this for 11 months." As if that makes a difference. Because let's face it, you would never say to someone, "How long did it take for you ass to get to be the size of a McMansion?" So why should it make a difference how long it takes someone to reduce the size of their ass to that of, say, a nice studio apartment?

Even now, in my blog, a journal that I started to keep me "honest" and on track, I hesitate to include the amount of weight I've lost. I can count on maybe two hands how many people are privy to that information.

Lately, I've been thinking about why this is. Some of it (I think) has to do with the fact that women are conditioned from an early age not to brag about themselves and/or certain things. It's gauche to celebrate our personal victories because there is a fine line between "celebrating" and "bragging." Women are also highly judgemental and competitive. . .myself included. I have friends who are doing WW/dieting. I know that my success, without context, has the ability to (unintentionally) marginalize their success. And their struggles. They look at me and think, "Why is she stressing, I would give anything to have lost as much as her." True. But they also don't know where I started or where I am going. Because where I started is at number most of them could never. imagine (let's just say that the idea is to LOSE baby weight, not gain it postpartum). They also don't realize is that I am looking at them and thinking, "What the fuck are they doing at WW? If I looked like them I would thrilled." It's all about the numbers. . .