The Shame Of Weight

I grew up in a home where the scale for ones body weight was a solid fixture in the upstairs hallway.  For years as a child I would watch my former weight obsessed mother step onto her throne that was her scale, hoping for a number that she could happily live with.  This self abusive behavior went on for years,  watching a woman measure her worth by the scale on the floor.  She seemed so ashamed of her body & the weight that she carried at times that eventually this body dysmorphia behavior unknowlingly wore off onto me.

As a skinny teenager I would weigh myself all the time, watching the number never really change from 90lbs that I weighed.  I could eat whatever I wanted without even paying attention to how it affected me, being graced with a set of stellar biological genes that were the complete opposite of my once adopted mother.  I was also extremely active in my younger years with dance which made it easy for me to maintain a figure that I never appreciated, always seeing it as something being wrong instead.

For me it was the opposite.  I was ashamed of my skinniness, always having someone point out the shape of my body & the silhouette of my figure mostly from a place of jealousy.  I felt it was a body competition in the home that I never agreed to, choosing to hid behind the clothes I wore that I got at Lane Bryant as a form of self protection.  I was body shammed over & over again without even realizing the emotional damage that was transferred to me until a single pivotal moment much later in life when it all click together.

My husband & I were moving from an apartment to a town house a few years ago & decided to take the dusty unused scale I had for years to the dumpster, where it essentially belonged.  It was in that moment that I flung this shitty stupid social construct device into the garage that I realized all the shame & pain that went with it.  I had a mind blowing epiphany moment, realizing then & there with tears what that scale actually held emotionally for me all along & the abusive memories of how I once felt about myself.

 I spent my entire life up until then holding onto some one else’s body shame in my own body, bearing its weight of her own self hatred & loath that was never my burden to carry.  I saw years of my unhealthy attachment to this mechanism fly into the dumpster, releasing me from its bondage I never knew I was chained too.  I never knew how traumatically bonded I was with the scale until I let it go, reclaiming my self of body I once loathed.

Sometimes we end up adapting to other peoples beliefs systems, projections & discriminations without even realizing where they come from.  Im sure these planted roots were much bigger than the ones that were entwined with me, making me sad for the generational women of this family with so much transferred shame themselves.  These insecurities often time breed into other avenues of life, taking on a form that unmanaged can become out of control.

I can see my own personal tendencies from this behavior I once embraced, having to regulate & modifiy my thought & feelings when it comes to seeing myself in the raw.  I have learned to not hid behind my clothing, yet instead to feel empowered & beautiful with the skin I came into the world with. Peace Love Faith Hope <3 <3 <3

Repost June 2017