I wrote the 206 post on my phone, while I was waiting for Thor at the dentist’s office. I would have written more, but The Lion King came on, and no matter what I am doing, I have to stop and watch the monkey present Simba. Every. Time. Also, the opening number is just too catchy. Everyone in the waiting room should just be glad I didn’t start warbling along.

I walked in a show to Circle of Life. I was the gigantic bridal gown finale, and it was very, very difficult not to twirl my way down the catwalk to that song. That song was made for twirling. So was the Glinda the Good Witch dress I had on. (Modeling bridal wear is a great way to suss out what you’d like to have for your own wedding. Glinda was swiftly off the list. As was Compound Bride, Country Bride, Slutty Bride, and 80s Hairbride.)


So I weigh 206 lbs. Do I want to weigh 206 lbs? No! That’s one of the reasons I’ve been seeing all these doctors. Something isn’t working properly, or I’d weigh a lot less. I think I’m not digesting my food properly–I’m lacking some enzyme or other.

Am I ashamed of weighing 206 lbs? No! And there’s the thing. No one should be ashamed of what they weigh. You weigh what you weigh. If you like it, fab! It’s no one else’s business. If you don’t like, okay. Work on it. It’s still no one else’s business.

You can’t judge someone’s health by their size. You also can’t judge their personality, their intellect, their respectability, their humanity, or their potential. You may think that you can infer some things. You might think that you could infer that I dine on ho-hos and swill soda by the 2 liter. You would be wrong. You might think that you could infer that I am lazy and never get up off the sofa. You would be wrong.

I have been very, very thin. At my heaviest, my wedding (because I can’t be like anyone else and lose weight for the big day–oof), I weighed 220. I got up to 235 while I was pregnant. A couple of years ago, I worked my way down to 178, then I went to visit Irene and gained 8lbs eating Redneck Benedicts, and I crested at 211 two months ago. I’m working it back down again.

My ideal weight, my personal ideal is 165. The BMI suggests that my personal ideal is 140, on the high end. The BMI can suck it.

I’m just saying that whether I am 220, or 105, I’m still Lane. My flab doesn’t affect my Me-ness. My hips have nothing to do with who I am, other than how well they work to get me from one place to another. I am okay with Lane.

I hope you are okay with You.

3 thoughts on “206.2”

  1. My personal high was 259. The difference for me was that I had NEVER been thin, and thought that being thin was the golden key to happiness. It took getting thin(ner — because no matter how small I get I have still never looked in a mirror and thought “hey, I’m so thin” — you brain will mess with you like that when you have a lifetime of body image issues bopping around in there) for me to realize that I like who I am. And all the rest of my issues, in the words of the lovely and eloquent Lane, can suck it.

    Five months post baby #3, I am 14 pounds above my “happy weight” of 154. I’m getting there — but the number on the scale no longer defines my self-worth. It’s just a place I know I like to be, but it’s not the key to happiness anymore.

    Good luck with all your tests! Feel free to call if you need an ear. Been there. Happy to listen or try to help.

  2. great post, Lane! you’re beautiful exactly as is and we all need to remember that. I’ve struggled up and down for a long time, too…and keep working at it, but I know I have to be ok with how I am now!

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