Weight

As part of increasing my strength training, I purchased adjustable dumbbells this week. I shifted my farmer carries from 10 lbs to 20 lbs. I have lots of room to grow!

And speaking of growing… most of my experience with weight these days comes through people wanting to grow smaller and smaller and smaller. Weight is one of the most common ways we measure our bodies, yet one of the most misunderstood. In my relatively short time in the Weight Watchers community, I’ve seen weight become a source of anxiety, frustration, pride, hope, and sometimes even a benchmark of health.

Weight is like an uninvited guest at a family gathering—always lingering, always offering commentary no one asked for. It lives in our closets, on our bathroom scales, in our doctor’s offices, and in the well-meaning comments of people who believe “You’ve lost weight!” is the highest compliment imaginable. Somewhere along the way, weight becomes more than a number; it becomes a story, a struggle, a relationship, and sometimes a lifelong negotiation.

For most of my life, weight wasn’t part of my conscious experience. When I joined WW (Wellness Wins), I wanted support in creating a healthier lifestyle—eating better, tending to my sleep hygiene, nurturing my mindset, and sharing my active life with others. Imagine my surprise when Wellness Wins shifted back to its former name: Weight Watchers. As I engage in its ups and downs, I see more clearly that weight is far more than a number or a simple calories-in-calories-out equation. It’s about emotions, patterns, coping, genetics, habits, hormones, seasons, and the simple truth that sometimes ice cream speaks louder than broccoli. Weight carries our stories—grief, celebration, coping—and food weaves itself through every one of them.

People often talk about weight as if it is a moral measurement—heavy equals bad, light equals good. But weight is never just that. It can mean protection. It can mean survival. It can mean comfort when life has offered too little. It can be rebellion, grounding, numbness, celebration, culture, or simply the natural result of a human being doing their best with the tools they have.

My own relationship with weight woke up the day my partner died from complications stemming from obesity. That loss forced me to recognize that I had an opportunity to change the trajectory of my own life. Being disconnected from my body for so long meant that I gained and eventually lost weight without really noticing—until everyone around me started making a big deal of it.

I was not part of diet culture. I didn’t experience the mountains and valleys, the gains and losses, the pride and shame, the dreaded weigh-ins or the impulse to fling a scale out the nearest window. I have never put a scale in “scale jail.” But my heart breaks for those who have. I know the pitfalls of the weight-loss journey, and I work hard to normalize my own fluctuations. For years, I weighed myself only once a year—on the anniversary of my partner’s death—as a quiet check-in with myself. This year, I decided to change that and will choose a random date in 2026 instead.

Weight, like emotions, is information. Not judgment. Not destiny. Not a verdict. Just information. What I’m learning is that when we stop treating weight like a battle to win and instead treat it like a relationship to understand, everything shifts. Weight management becomes less about punishment and more about curiosity. Less about restriction and more about alignment. Less about “fixing” something broken and more about supporting something human.

I’ve learned that weight responds to kindness far more than it responds to shame. Bodies soften under compassion and seize under criticism. And when we begin to matter to ourselves—truly matter—our choices begin to shift. We don’t shame ourselves into caring for our health; we care for ourselves because we realize we’re worth the effort.

Community helps, too. I am grateful for the WW community I’m part of—the cheerfulness, the shared stories, the recipes, the missteps, the victories both big and small. This community reminds us that we’re not alone. Sometimes, that’s all we need: proof that this journey is not a solitary one.

My weight may change. It may go up. It may go down. It may plateau just to build character. But the true measure of progress is not the scale. It’s how I feel inside my body. It’s the ability to climb stairs without sighing dramatically. It’s choosing to walk because it lifts my spirit, not because it burns calories. It’s feeling strong, capable, and alive. It’s knowing that pleasure and health can coexist. It’s learning to inhabit my body with tenderness instead of criticism.

For me, weight is not a finish line—it's a continuum. Our bodies, miraculous as they are, carry us through every chapter, every joy, every heartbreak, every transformation.

I may never have a perfect relationship with weight. Most of us don’t. But I’m building a kinder one—one with fewer battles and more understanding. One that honours the life I want to live, not the life I think I should be living. A relationship grounded in compassion, curiosity, and truth.

And maybe that is the real victory—not losing weight but losing the heaviness of shame.

Because in the end, I know two things: the only weight worth shedding is the weight that keeps us from loving ourselves as we are—and as we are becoming. And when I die and am cremated, I will be smoking hot and at my lowest weight ever!