First, I did something stupid.
I got on a body mass percentage scale.
Then I did something stupider.
Lets back up. A year ago, when I was at the top of my crossfit/distance running/ swimming/weightlifting palooza, I got a body fat percent measurement, assuming to be in the “athletic” percentage. Those scales are fun, you get to hold onto the handles, and if you are in good shape you get psyched about reading the results. Whats not as fun is when you don’t get the results you had hoped for. The number it read had me on the higher end of average, dangling closely on the cusp of obesity! Though I shrugged if off in front of my friends who had partaken in the viewing, it did secretly eat away at me for some time. “What if I am not as in shape as I think I am?”, “What else could I possibly be doing to be ‘healthier’?” and other similar thoughts loomed over me for several months. Then came attempt two. This time on a different scale and in different location. But once again my nerves were far from assuaged when the number once again read 30%. Now my undercover disappointment escalated. This was during my diet craze of attempted vegan/ accidentally starving myself. I cut back on my fat intake as this was back in the day when I believed foods like olive oil and avocados made you fat. Result: feeling extremely low-energized at evening karate classes and just overall less happy.
Fast forward to this past winter. I was high as a kite on Crossfit. I was just about breathing WODs and believing that Paleo is the cure to all of the world’s problems. The CF box I was training at brought in a “doctor” -whatever the hell that means- to measure body fat. So I obviously got on board, especially since she was using radioactive waves that I knew to be a more accurate reading. I was all pumped up when I got out of work early that Friday to make it to my appointment. And guess what my percentage read?! 30%. Yeah, it did. And the process spiraled through again.
This passed Thursday was my 4th and final attempt at this body fat percentage process. I pretended it was for the soul purpose of learning how to use our gym’s new scale, but secretly I had some hope that the results would finally please me. I know I’m sadistic. But if you have made it this far in my post I’m sure you can relate in some way or the other. And you’ll never guess…30%. Well the morning escalated as it usually does post-measurement. I battled some depression, some exercise addictive thoughts and then went home to blog about it.
I began to write an entry about all my problems when I stopped, thought about it some more and then laughed. I laughed uncontrollably for a solid few minutes. I laughed because I had run 14 miles the day before and done an intensive Crossfit workout that very morning. I laughed because I eat healthier than anyone I know. I laughed because there is not a single ounce of visible of fat on my body. I laughed because of the distress it had caused me in the passed. And then I laughed more to let it all go.