I am trying my best to be more accepting of my body. I mean, I do this for a living. I work with people of all ages to help them move through “their stuff,” and often that includes their relationship with their bodies. And still, even for me, there is ongoing work to do.
Getting on the scale is difficult for me, even after years of working toward a healthier relationship with food and my body. The other day, out of the blue, a friend asked me how much I weigh. It was an innocent question, not coming from a place of judgment. But she could tell from my response that I was uncomfortable. There’s often an assumption that someone who appears “thin” couldn’t possibly struggle with body image. But for me, unbeknownst to her, the question stirred something deeper.
A few days earlier, early in the morning, I stood in my bathroom, took the scale out from under the sink, and stepped on. I was anticipating a visit to my primary doctor and knew I would be asked for my weight. I wanted to preempt that moment, the anxiety, the vulnerability, the fear of judgment, that stepping on a scale can still bring up for me.
This doesn’t come easily. It takes real effort to try to normalize my weight and separate it from my sense of self. There’s something deeply personal about attaching a number to worth, even when I know, both professionally and personally, that it shouldn’t define me. I believe our relationship with our body can be one of the most complicated relationships we have.
If any part of this resonates with you, you’re not alone. Do these feelings ever go away? I am honestly not sure but there are indeed ways to help you cope. And ways to feel at peace with yourself and with your body.
While I do feel that in some ways we’ve moved backward with the increasing accessibility of weight loss drugs, it’s also true that, culturally, we’ve begun to unlearn parts of diet culture. Many of us are starting to embrace body acceptance. But that doesn’t mean we’re immune to hard moments. They still sneak in, when clothes don’t fit quite right, or when we catch our reflection in a mirror or a store window. That inner critic can still get loud.
In those moments, I try to pause and ask myself what’s really going on. Because often, it’s not about my body at all. It’s stress, overwhelm, insecurity, or a sense of disconnection. When I get curious instead of critical, something shifts. That moment of checking in becomes an act of care. I begin an internal conversation instead of a spiral: “I’m noticing I feel off today. What else might be happening? What do I need right now?”
It doesn’t fix everything, but it builds trust and kindness with myself and my body. Sometimes I move my body. I go for a walk, I head to the gym, or simply lie down and breathe. Other times, I turn to creativity: writing, reading, cooking, or calling a friend. These aren’t solutions; they are ways back to myself.
The hard moments will still come. The scale may still feel heavy, both physically and emotionally. But those moments don’t define my relationship with myself. And they don’t have to define yours either. As a licensed therapist and intuitive eating counselor, I’m here to support you.