If there’s any generational curse I hope I can break, it’s this one.
After a life long struggle with body issues and finally feeling good about my weight and relationship to food, I talked with my grandmother on the phone. She’s always hosting her friends for cards and always makes a dessert. So I told her about a dessert that I had recently. Her response?
“Well, honey, have you gained weight?”
I told her instead about the half marathon I ran the weekend before and how I finally finished in less than 2 hours. I told her instead about what my body can do and not what it looks like.
Who decided that the number on the scale is the most important thing about me?