A Letter to my Scale

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By: Kayla Hopper

Dear Scale,

You have ruined my life. I have given you power to control every aspect of my day. You tell me when to wake up, what to wear, what to eat, and when to drink. You tell me where I can go, who I can go with, and always make sure I feel worse about myself; so that I can strive to make you happier. You make me believe that the lower your number; the higher my worth is, and the safer I am. You tell me a set point and promise that you won’t demand more; until it’s not enough, I can always be better. Each day I run to you, sometimes multiple times a day, just to get your approval. To see if I am living up to the standards I allowed you to set.

But there is one thing I have now realized, I handed you the power, and I can take it back. That number doesn’t tell me my worth; I am made in the image of God, created with the utmost love and respect. I am worthy of love and compassion that you are unable to give. The number doesn’t reflect my accomplishments. I am a proud mother of four children and a wonderful wife and friend. I have allowed my body to go through tremendous pain and change just in the power of love. I am not an object, I live and breathe. I deserve to have grace on my hard days, and celebrate my victories.

I am a woman, I am valued, I am needed, I am wanted, and I am deserving. I am everything you tell me I’m not. I don’t have to be a certain size to be accepted. I don’t have to be a certain number to love myself. Loving myself is not conditional, and it is not a weakness. I have allowed you to have control for too long. I have let you wreck my body, my self-esteem, my family, and my relationships. You have caused more pain than I can fathom, all in the quest for an unfulfilling happiness. You have nothing to offer me but lies and pain.

Without you I can soar. I can be who I am created to be. Without your demands… I am free.


About the Author: I am a 30-year-old wife and mother of four. A survivor of anorexia, ptsd, and bipolar disorder.

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