I am about to turn 38 and up until a couple of years ago I truly believed that every single woman on the planet weighed 10 stone. I rarely judged other women, nor looked at them and thought they were slim, curvy, big; I frequently admired their hair, how they dressed and rarely noticed if they gained or lost weight – I was completely oblivious to their physical appearance other than thinking that they must weigh about 10 stone!
Now, I have always weighed around 10 stone and maybe this has contributed to my completely distorted view of the rest of the female population. After all: aren’t all our views of the world based upon the platform we find ourselves standing. I have had 6 children and every time I put on a good amount of weight, I put on weight like I am competing in an Olympic sport – 5 and half stone at my biggest. Oh, how I longed to be one of those women who do not gain anything other than a ball like bump that almost looks falsely attached to their abdomen. Nope, not me. The moment I fall pregnant the dreaded scales start to increase and after 9mths of watching the scales increase and I have given birth I am distraught because I have no excuse, I am no longer pregnant, yet I do not weigh 10 stone – you have to look back and laugh at the irrational, hormonal breakdown that occurs in those lovely sleep deprived first few weeks. The reality is it takes 9 months to gain the weight and it takes 9 months at least to lose the weight. I have gone back to 10 stone after every single pregnancy, apart from number 5 because he was only 5 months old when I fell pregnant with no. 6 – I got back to 10 and a half stone. Approaching 40 with so many mini humans now under my wing I sensed that: I must have hit the slippery slope, the one you hear so many mums talking about – NEVER LOSING THAT DAMN BABY WEIGHT! I was now on it, surely there would be no way back to 10 stone!
Now I am very vocal person, open and honest about overcoming an eating disorder yet I and the rest of the world seldom ever mention how much we weigh – my god, you do not discuss the actual numbers on the bloody torturous weighing machine. Women will share toilets, bathrooms, beds, make up and discuss the most intimate of conversations with each other yet when it comes to how much we weigh and what size clothes we are wearing it is a complete no go zone. Unless you weigh 6 stone and are a size zero it is not something you shout about – why do we not shout about it? Why do we not openly say how much we all weigh or what size clothes we are wearing because if we did, if we really opened up about dress sizes, those darn labels that some of us even feel compelled to cut out (please tell me I am not the only one who has cut the size 14 label out of her knickers!), we would all feel so much better because we would know that the whole world really does not weigh 10 stone nor is every single female a size 10! We would dispel so many myths about dress size and weight, we would gain a more realistic view of the female figure. Enlightening people that even when we do weigh the same as someone else we may still be different dress sizes, we can still have completely different body shapes and definitely all suit different styles. Thus attempting to lift the shame that comes with weight and the obsession with the numbers that propel people from one failing diet to another, inevitably gaining more weight through unrealistic targets and ideals.
The average women (it is ok ladies, we all know no woman is ‘average’) is more like a size 16 and just over 11 stone. Only when I started speaking about my weight did other women openly discuss theirs which in turn enlightened me to this vast variant in weight ranges. It truly is very liberating to openly say I am 10 stone, no longer feeling a slave to the scales. In-fact years ago I would frequently say 9 13, because nothing feels better than being in the previous set of numbers! Honestly, didn’t you know that then that counts as ‘back in the 9’s’. My goodness, I cannot be the only slave to the scales, pushed to the brink by what the numbers would say, driven to despair trying to reach that specific number that will make all the difference to my life – NOT! The thing I could never understand with weighing myself was that if they produced the numbers I wanted I would be ecstatic and go and eat, yet if they produced something ghastly indicating that my arse had grown from the previous week I would wallow and go and eat, this means that weighing myself makes me consume more calories: increasing my chances of weighing more! Moral of the story…….
Anyhow now mini human number 6 is coming up for 11 months old I am 10 stone again, well 10 stone 1lb and ¾ to be precise – but who’s counting.
Change why you eat and you will change what you eat!
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