Brazil’s Unseen Measures

The quote “She remembered who she was, and the game changed” by Lalah Delia frames a personal reflection on the power of a bathroom scale. For many, the device and the numbers it displays can dictate self-worth and ruin an otherwise good day.

The author recalls a lifelong struggle where a number on a scale determined self-value. Growing up in the 1990s, she internalized a target weight of 120 pounds, influenced by magazines and fashion trends. This led to daily weigh-ins where the number mattered more than energy or well-being.

Positive reinforcement from others for weight loss often came despite feelings of starvation and exhaustion. After taking up running to cope with grief, the activity eventually became a tool solely for staying small. Being told in her twenties that her body fat was too low felt like an achievement at the time.

Four pregnancies later, controlling the scale’s number became more difficult. Exercise, including strength training, was performed only to burn calories, not to build capability. The focus remained entirely on lowering the number, regardless of actual strength.

A turning point came after a fall from a horse injured her ankle, preventing her from running as before. This forced a shift in mindset. She began strength training with the goal of being strong, not of burning calories. The goal became to lift, move, and feel capable.

An unexpected result followed. People commented that she looked like she had lost weight, yet the number on the scale had actually increased. Old jeans fit again. This led to a realization that the scale was not telling the whole story of her health.

She understood the scale only measured gravitational pull on a given morning. It could not measure strength, muscle, or capability. As a nurse practitioner, she acknowledges that tracking weight trends has a clinical purpose and can inform medical decisions to improve health.

However, that number was never meant to determine if someone should have a good day. It does not measure resilience, energy, confidence, or strength. The author expresses frustration that the narrative she grew up with persists, seen in adolescent patients and media consumed by children.

She notes a frequent disparity in messages: boys are often encouraged to become stronger, where a higher scale number from muscle is celebrated, while girls often hear that smaller is better. In her daily work, she strives to change this narrative, promoting the idea that stronger is better.

She reminds others that bodies are meant to be strong, healthy, and capable, and that strength is built, not shrunk into. She recalls how the scale once controlled her day, with numbers fluctuating due to hormones or water retention despite her actions.

Her perspective has changed. If she focuses on a number now, it is on the weight she can lift, such as her deadlift, squat, or bench press numbers. These figures represent effort, consistency, and progress that truly reflect the work done.

This experience highlights a broader cultural conversation about health metrics and body image. The reliance on a single number like weight or BMI often overlooks critical components of fitness and well-being, such as body composition, cardiovascular health, and functional strength. Many health professionals advocate for a more holistic view of health that celebrates what a body can do rather than just what it weighs.