So I was in the bathroom doing my make-up, and my four-year-old daughter came in and started telling me a story. (This, by the way, is the rule. If Mommy is in the bathroom for ANY REASON AT ALL, someone under 4 foot is absolutely REQUIRED to join her.) I have no idea what she was talking about, but I do remember that she was playing on the bathroom scale. I happen to remember that detail because she paused, mid-sentence, as only 4-year-old children can and said, "Someday when I'm a big girl that number on here will go all the way to the top!! Then I'll be in the big numbers! Just like you, Mommy! You get to be in the REALLY BIG numbers!" Thanks kid, you're out of the will.
I thought about her comment for a moment. First of all, why in the hell do women even OWN scales. Seriously, we should never EVER purchase such a thing. It's worse than a medieval torture device. And secondly, at what point do we stop wanting to be in the "big numbers?" I mean, the girl was rather devastated that the number wasn't going any higher and I can recall a time just last week when I decided to piss myself off by standing on the damn thing and thinking that it was most likely broken (as has been the case with every scale I've stepped on in the last 8 years.) They just don't make things like they used to...
Anyway, I think I'm going to take a different approach to this "weight loss" thing. I'm gonna take cues from my four-year-old. It just makes sense. She is beautiful, completely satisfied with the body she was given, AND she eats chocolate ice cream like it's her last meal. The point is, I think in order to be successful at this I'm going to need to like myself FIRST. As difficult as that may be, I'm pretty sure I've got the world's best teacher. Just today she found a new swimming suit in her dresser, took it out, looked it over once and said, "I'm going to look SO cute in this." With that kind of attitude, how could I possibly go wrong?
While in the bathroom with my daughter, I decided to make it a learning experience, as I often find myself doing for whatever reason. It's probably just because I'm a mom, and I try to "teach" when possible. As is often the case, there was definitely a lesson involved but I'll let you decide which one of us was the teacher. The conversation went something like this:
Mommy: "Morgan, can you tell me what number is on there? How much do you weigh?"
Morgan: "Well, I don't really know how much I weigh...but my feet weigh 40 pounds."
And this is why my 4-year-old is a genius.