We are never ever ever getting back together...

I've had a tumultuous relationship with my scale for years. Sometimes I love it. Sometimes I hate it. Sometimes I swear it's lying to me. Sometimes I wish it would lie to me. The scale and I are in an abusive relationship, and it's time to break up.

I've got this ritual. Every morning. Wake up. Head to the bathroom where my scale sits in its place of honor in front of my full length mirror. (Clearly, I am a glutton for punishment) weigh myself. Pick apart all the things that need work. Get ready for the day.

Sounds healthy...

For years I have had this number in my head. This apex of perfection. Sometimes I am there. Sometimes I'm not. The fact remains, even when I reach this number I'm not happy. There's always something wrong. Something is not tight enough, or perky enough, or tan enough, or whatever. It's all BS.

So imagine my horror when I completely lost control of my body during my pregnancy, and had so much water retention I could feel my feet "sloshing" when I took a step. I hated my body every day. I couldn't even enjoy my pregnancy because this stupid scale was reminding me every day of my inadequacy. I didn't glow like a pregnant Giselle, and life wasn't fair. I cried. A lot. I picked apart my body, despite the fact that I was growing new life inside of me. It sucked.

After Lukas was born, something happened. My feet stopped sloshing after a week or two. (35 pounds of water retention will do that) While, I was still covered with reminders of this child I carried, I was far less critical of myself. My stomach, that was now riddled with marks where my skin stretched to hold my boy, reminded me of what a powerful creature I am. My nose that I wished for years was my mother's, I began to love, because I gave it to my son, and he is perfection. My thighs that I cursed while trying to squeeze into the latest skinny jeans, I love as I watch my son rest on my lap.

Loving this precious boy has done something remarkable. It has taught me to love myself. Every nook and cranny.

So I've decided it's time to commit 100% to loving myself, in order to be the best mother I can be. That means breaking up with my scale. The fact is, that number doesn't matter. I feel good, I am healthy, and I have a husband who thinks I am smoking hot. In the end, that's all that should matter.