Perfect Weight America

As I was walking around the house in my personal race with myself to try and have all the “things” that were out-of-place put back in order before I got all the kids out the door so I could start the real cleaning I came across a book my friend had given me called “Perfect Weight America”. I looked through it briefly then it was hidden away in my drawer. The one where the pull is broken and I never get into. As I thought about the title randomly putting things away. I thought about my incident with the scale this morning as well. I began again after a two week hiatus sans perpetual sickness and pms to begin walking in the mornings again. I used to be an excellent, diligent walker. Up to 40 miles a week at times. So I weighed myself before I left and although I know for a fact the scale is broken and it would be humanly impossible for me to weigh this a small twinge of joy happened when the scale read. 97.5 lbs. Now I am 5’10 and built solid as my pawpaw would say. I once was 165lbs and I was looking good almost a little too thin. So 97.5 is like I said inhumanly possible. But I also began to ponder upon these words. “Perfect Weight America” And realized I frankly don’t care. I was a teenager when the whole bulimia and anorexia thing started to become public. I had a good friend who I repeatedly covered for so she could go and puke up her food. I even admit I tried it but I just loved food and basketball too much to do it regularly. (My mom caught me and told me if she found out that I was doing it again. She would make me quit Basketball.) So I didn’t. Anyways I am frankly just uncaring of what my perfect weight or size of clothing is. I’m a big healthy girl, and I just like feeling good and that’s why I walk and try to lose the weight I gained before. Don’t get me wrong I like to look good but I am just too busy doing other things to have it consume me with worry.

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~ by Bri Clark on September 28, 2009.

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