The Scale Doesn’t Define Me—I Do

It’s interesting looking back at pictures of myself from high school. Back then, I thought I was overweight, but looking at those photos now, I realize it wasn’t about the number on the scale—it was about the state of my health. I was active—well, active enough to not be glued to the couch every day—but even then, my body was sending me red flags that I completely ignored.

At 21, I had my daughter, and like many moms, I never quite bounced back to the version of myself that existed before her. It took me years to realize that my struggle wasn’t just about staying active. There was something deeper going on. I’ve had chronic inflammation since I was young, and what I thought was being “overweight” in high school was probably just being over-inflamed.

Growing up, dairy was a staple in our house, and I’ve always had issues with it. Add that to battling seasonal allergies, which are another form of inflammation, and I wasn’t exactly starting with a clean slate. Then, at 30, I injured my knee, which made it harder to stay as active as I wanted. As a single mom, there were years when I could barely afford to take care of anyone, let alone myself. And that’s when my health really started to spiral, leading me to one of my worst struggles: intense acid reflux.

And I mean next-level acid reflux.

Every night, I went to bed with a sense of dread, knowing what was waiting for me. The acid reflux wasn’t just a minor annoyance—it was like an uninvited ghost with a vendetta, lurking in the dark, making sure I knew it was there. It crept up my throat, slow and relentless, and I never knew when or how bad it would be. Most of the time, I’d end up throwing up, my body revolting against the burn. It would sit there like molten lava, burning and churning, just hanging out, refusing to leave. I’d doze off, propped up on pillows like some half-committed yoga pose, trapped in a weird limbo between sleep and misery. It was my constant, unwanted companion— always threatening to take over. My nights had become a horror movie, only without the plot, the budget, or any discernible villain—just me, my pillows, and the endless suffering. I was the star of a terrible sequel, and it kept getting worse.

Around the same time, my daughter was struggling with her own stomach issues. She’d go to bed with a heating pad on her stomach every night, complaining of cramps. Watching her suffer was one of the hardest parts of my journey. As a mother, you want to fix everything, but I felt helpless. I tried remedy after remedy, but nothing seemed to work. Even when we went to the doctor, the advice was to “manage her anxiety,” which left me frustrated and defeated.

That’s when I realized I had to make a change. I didn’t know what, exactly, but something had to give.

After talking to a client who had tried veganism, I decided to give it a go. It took me 4 days to convince my teenage daughter to try it with me (teens, right?). To our surprise, it worked—a lot. Even though I had my doubts about giving up meat and dairy—foods I grew up on and loved, especially cheese—it was clear that something was shifting in our health.

The acid reflux decreased, and my daughter stopped reaching for the heating pad every night. I felt like I had just won a major battle—not just for her, but for me, too, as a parent. It was a reminder that our health isn’t just about what we weigh or how we look—it’s about how we feel. And that shift marked the beginning of a new perspective on our health. Did she hate me for it? Oh, you bet. But it was worth it.

After six months of not eating cheese, we tried it again at a Father’s Day gathering. When I took that first bite of cheese, it didn’t taste the same. My taste buds had reset, and the creamy texture I once adored now felt... off. It was like visiting your elementary school as an adult—you and it just didn’t fit anymore. Our taste buds had adapted to the vegan cheese, which is its own acquired taste and a test in patience. Even now, five years later, I’m still figuring out how I feel about this new reality.

I then found myself drawn to a holistic health coach program. The course completely opened my eyes to food intolerances, and the deeper connections between health and nutrition.

During my studies, I came across the idea of a cleanse. Intrigued, I decided to try it for 5 days. What I learned during those five days was eye-opening. I discovered that it wasn’t my body craving food—it was my mind running the show. Within 2-3 weeks, I had dropped 15 pounds of inflammation. The weight loss surprised me—I wasn’t expecting results, just exploring something new.

Of course, my daughter had her moments of eye-rolling as I swapped out ingredients like I was auditioning for a role in a cooking show. But hey, she did like some of the changes, even if she wouldn't admit it to me. Still! I’m only just beginning to become someone who might know things to her.

Since then, my weight has fluctuated depending on what's going on in my life. I can’t exercise the way I used to, thanks to my knee, but I focus on what I can do. One thing I’ve figured out is that I’m completely addicted to learning. I’ve taken countless courses on nutrition and health. The more I read, the more fascinated I become.

There are days when I eat like I’m in a food coma from stress, binge-watching shows and reaching for snacks without thinking. It’s like my brain’s on autopilot, while my body’s sitting there going, Dude...what are we doing?

Here’s what I’ve learned through all of this:

• First, tying your self-worth to the number on the scale is a surefire way to drive yourself crazy. Trust me, that number does not define you.
  
  

• Second, pay attention to when you’re on autopilot. You’re probably not eating what your body actually wants—you’re feeding your brain’s demand for comfort. Your brain craves those familiar connections, and it can be a tricky little frenemy, pressuring you into what feels easiest, not what’s best for you.
  
  

• And finally, measure your progress by how your body feels. Yes, salty and sweet are amazing, and I’m not saying you should avoid them. But try to feed your body what it needs 95% of the time and let your brain indulge in comfort foods just 5% of the time. When you flip that ratio, it’s a minefield.
  
  

Back then, I measured my worth by the number on the scale, convinced it was the be-all and end-all of my success or failure.

Now? I see health as a balance of mind, body, and spirit. It’s not about squeezing into a pair of jeans—it’s about how I feel when I actually give my body the care and kindness it deserves (who knew, right?).

This journey? Not exactly smooth sailing, and I definitely don’t have all the answers. But if I can make this shift, I’m pretty sure you can too.

What’s one small change you’ve made in your own health journey recently? It doesn’t have to be life-altering—sometimes, the tiniest adjustments make the biggest difference. Share your story with me, and let’s keep this health thing going. You’re not alone in this.

I’m learning every day to listen to my body—and that’s the only measurement that counts. This is my health journey, and I’m owning it.

Now, I want you to own yours.