I threw out my scales and I couldn’t be happier.

I wake up happy, rested, and ready to take on the day. This lasts five minutes. Or the precise amount of time it takes me to reach my bathroom scales.

Yep, I’m one of those girls. And if you’re not, chances are you know someone who is.

On a good day, I step on and I’m the same weight. If I’m particularly lucky, I’m 200–300 grams less. Cue fist pumps. Even though this weight is no more than a glass of water, I’m still stoked.

Image via iStock.
It's a 7am ritual. Image via iStock. 

I sing in the shower. I chirp about my day’s plans. I dress in a firm, feel good outfit. I’m on top of the world. I’m Beyoncé. I got this.

On a bad day, my weight’s crept up. My body feels the same, but the number staring back at me tells me I should feel shameful. I curse myself for the glass of wine/extra helping of dinner/hot chocolate I had the previous evening. I stay silent as I prepare for the day.

This was my reality for years. A cycle of hell beginning at 7am each morning, no matter the date or occasion. Birthdays, holidays, workdays, and weekends always began one of two ways – with cursing or fist pumps.

That was until I asked my husband to hide the scales. I wanted them out of sight. It was becoming all too much.

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Cue catastrophe. Spiralling weight gain. Low self-esteem. Jeans that don’t zip up... Right? Wrong.


My pant size is the same. My top size is the same. That little belly I have when I sit with my legs crossed is the same. The persistent bulge over the side of my bra? The same.

But I’m not the same. I couldn’t be more different.

For the first time in a long time, I’m happy with my body. Big smiles, little-tummy-jiggling, carefree happy.

Not the type of happy that only occurs if the scales appease me. The type of happy that sticks around.

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It doesn’t mean I’ve given up. I’m not eating KFC as I write this post (and if I was? Great choice).

I’m still clocking kilometres on the treadmill, jumping on the bike every other day and lifting weights.

But I'm doing this for me, not for the scales.

Letting go of the scales doesn’t mean “letting go” of our bodies. It doesn’t mean not caring if we gain weight. It means trusting ourselves, being healthy and active for positive reasons – not because we’re 800 grams heavier than we were yesterday.

Using the scales is meant to help women feel in control of our bodies, our bumps and our curves. But more often than not, it makes us feel the opposite - that we have no control. It becomes a dictator of our mood and the way we feel about ourselves. It has to stop.

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Video by Transmission Films

When we step on the scales daily as part of our "pursuit of happiness", we’re letting a piece of battery-operated plastic define our happiness. We’re smarter than this.

I’m not going to pretend changing my relationship with the scales was easy. It wasn’t. It still isn’t.

But, boy, has it been worth it.