This morning I stepped on the scale, as I've done every morning for the past 18 months. See, 18 months ago I began working with a wellness coach with the goal of losing 10.5 pounds and getting back to the weight I had considered good enough in my mid-40s. Over the course of five months I did lose the weight, plus an additional 4 pounds, and I've been weighing myself daily ever since as part of an effort to keep the weight off. My weight has been pretty stable, although I did gain back 1.5 pounds this past winter.
I stepped on the scale and saw that the number was on the lighter side compared to the past week, and felt happy. I then looked in the mirror and saw that the shape of my body was pleasing: flattish belly, square shoulders, smooth contours. I then noticed a subtle mental movement, which, if I put words to it, would say, "OK, I can't pin my sense of dissatisfaction with myself on the shape of my body this morning. I have to find something else to pin it on." The mind then became restless, searching for some other flaw or problem to worry over.
I'd noticed this kind of thing before, but today it struck me: our anger at society for making demands that our bodies look a certain way is a bit misplaced. Yes, society does make these demands, and as a result, most women (and many men) suffer from chronic dissatisfaction with our bodies and relentless preoccupation with making our bodies look a certain way. But the root cause of all of this is a generic self-dissatisfaction that will never be uprooted by societal changes. It can only be uprooted by inner transformation.
