This morning, I went to a new doctor. The anxiety I usually feel getting on the scale wasn’t there this morning, one because I knew what to expect, and two because I also know I’m doing everything I can for my body right now, which is a really accomplished feeling.
So, the number was there, and that was that. And into the room walks my new gyno, a relationship we ALL know is make or break. We were talking about my medical history, and she commented, in passing, that I was very healthy – I exercise, I don’t smoke, I’m at a healthy weight. Let the gravity of those words sink in.
This was the first time, in oh I don’t know, forever?, that I didn’t shrink upon hearing my weight and also the first time that a trained medical professional referred to that as healthy. When I went to see my old physician last May, she made me stop eating everything but lean meat and vegetables for two weeks. That’s right, I wasn’t even “allowed” to eat fruit.
As I sit at my desk, eating my overnight oats and sipping on some coffee with skim (this breakfast is never going to get old), I feel a sense of calm and a sense of drive that I haven’t felt in a long time. I am healthy. Though I could weigh less, I am healthy. At a healthy weight.
A good way to start a Thursday? Hell yeah.