Last week I lunched with a dear friend of mine who’s known me for over three decades. My friend has seen my weight fluctuate dramatically from a low (adult weight) of 113 pounds all the way up to 199.5. In all honesty, I’m sure I tipped the scale up and over the 200 pound mark at one time or another, but once the number started inching up in that direction I stashed the scale away in a dark closet. Out of sight, out of mind I always say. If I can’t see it – it isn’t so.
I’ve gotten really good at telling people I weigh somewhere “in the neighborhood” of my driver’s license weight. When in fact I’m so far from that neighborhood, not even an Eagle Scout with a golden compass, a high-end GPS system, and a printed Google map could help me find that neighborhood right now. Can you say denial?
What we weigh is such a personal, intimate detail most of us go to great lengths to keep that number a secret. I’d rather have root canal surgery than share my real weight with anyone. To this day – even my husband has no clue what I weigh. (The poor guy totally buys that “neighborhood” theory.)
I should say no one knows my real weight … until my lunch last week. My dear friend was telling me how good she thought I looked and I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. Yes, it may be true I’ve lost a smattering of weight over the last few months, but I know I’m a long way from where I need to be. A long, long way.
Honestly, I really am at that point where I couldn’t give a flying fart what other people think of the way I look – the fact of the matter is I’m at the intersection of “Confidence & Fatigue.” On one hand I admit I’m a full-figured woman and I’m okay with that — finally, while on the other hand I’m carrying around this full-figure full time and it’s is putting a lot of stress on my body and my joints and I’m exhausted.
As I was lunching with my very best friend, my Gertrude, I experienced a moment of weakness and was feeling that “confession is good for the soul” vibe.
“Yeah well I may look good but I weigh one-hundred and blah-de blah blah pounds.” I just blurted it out – no drum roll, pomp or circumstance, there it was … my number … my weight … my humiliation. And guess what? It felt really good to say it out loud and get it off my chest! It felt even better that my friend didn’t laugh at me. And then she did something truly amazing and confessed her weight OUT LOUD to me, but swore me to secrecy. To my grave, I swear, no one will ever hear it from me!
The funny thing is the older you get (or the heavier you get) numbers, some numbers anyway, seem to lose their importance. When my friend confessed her weight, my response was, “Gee, that’s not so bad. If you went on The Biggest Loser they’d hate you because you were the little girl!”
It’s all relative. It’s just a number. Now that I’ve confessed it out loud, the power that the number had over me has been broken. It’s just a number and it does not control me.
When we confess our shame and bring it out of the darkness Satan loses his power over us. Confession really is good for the soul. I feel 10 pounds lighter having finally admitted to another person what I weigh.
Perhaps if I shared my weight on my blog, I’d really unburden my soul and feel 20 pounds lighter, but I’m not going to lie to you – I’m not that secure– yet. Maybe when I get back to my driver’s license weight I’ll come clean. In the meantime, let’s just say I’m in the neighborhood!
It is not easy to find happiness in ourselves, and it is not possible to find it elsewhere. ~Agnes Repplier
12 It is shameful even to talk about the things that ungodly people do in secret. 13 But their evil intentions will be exposed when the light shines on them, 14 for the light makes everything visible. This is why it is said, “Awake, O sleeper, rise up from the dead, and Christ will give you light.” Ephesians 5:12-14 (NLT)
PRAYER FOR TODAY:Thank you Lord Jesus for the freedom you’ve blessed me with to simply be myself and to know with certainty — that is good enough for you, whatever I weigh. All praise be to you, Father God in Heaven. Amen.