“How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are?” Leroy (Satchel) Page
What’s in a number? In my "former" life I was an accountant surrounded by numbers day and night. Combine a conservative Christian, basically fundamental background with a profession where everything balances neatly and you don't have much room to consider the unknown. Interesting, huh? Now the "new me" finds myself living in a more mysterious, less objective, certainly not as concrete existence with LOTs of space allowed.... and still I find numbers can carry their own weight.
As I mentioned here, I’ve been working with a life coach whose specialty is weight issues. Professionally speaking, however, I must remind myself that the presenting issue is rarely the real issue. Participating via supportive group sessions and online discussions, I quickly found myself feeling fabulous, fit and lighter in every sense of the word. So, one day while at the gym, I decided it was time to step on the scales - fully expecting the number to reflect this supremely satisfied me. As I pushed the little weight counter over to the balance point, I was horrified (and deeply disappointed) to find there was NO movement since the last time I weighed several weeks before. (Gasp!!) What’s a girl to do? Let a piece of metal take away my mellow? I almost let the scales win, but quickly realized I much prefer feeling light & easy rather than heavy-laden with the makings of my own mind. Thanks to the great support of other fabulous women, I rallied and didn’t let myself go into a tail spin. But, oh my, the power of that silly number!!
Now while I could expound for hours on the subject of weight and body image, I wanted to relay another experience with numbers I had today. Per my last post, I spent the majority of two full days in my closets – sorting, pitching, and recycling those things that no longer serve me well. If I don’t love it or have an immediate functional use for it, out the door it went. I saved my personal closet for last as I had cleaned it only a couple of months ago, but this time I was ruthless. I dug into corners that haven’t been seen in MANY years. I found jewelry, I’d forgotten I lost. I tried on pants and skirts that have become too large for my slimmer self. I vacuumed and dusted nooks and crannies – organized necklaces and scarves and earrings – pitching anything without a mate and forgetting my previous motto, ‘Well it might turn up... (or) I might need this...’
In this heroic effort, I saved the cream of the crop to take to the resale shop down in the village. Included in the two bursting bags were jewelry pieces, strappy sandals, a practically new leather coat and a variety of well-made clothes I hate to think how much their original cost. Dressed in a sassy skirt having just come from work, I loaded up the bags and went to make my fortune in resale. I patiently waited as the young twenty-something clerk plucked through my things, making what I thought were two piles and feeling assured the larger pile was definitely the ‘keeper’. She finally finished and with a perky smile and polished tone announced, “We’ve decided to keep three pieces today, so the cash available to you is $9.45.” $9.45?!?!?!? Are you kidding me? I spent two days cleaning and sorting, saved my best stuff for you and all that’s worth $9.45? These last words, of course, spoken only in my mind.
Numbers. What’s a girl to do? Throw a fit? Cry? Devalue the super light feeling I felt after clearing away all that clutter? Tempting, but No Way!! A little convertible time, some good music and a trip to the charity center to drop off my very valuable donations is helping lift the power of this particular number ☺. Oh my, I do continue to learn so much about myself. I noticed that I wanted to drive immediately to the bakery or the smoothie store and sooth my wounded little pride. My inner whiner was sulking big time! “Waaahhh. They didn’t want our stuff.”
“Thanks, kid.” I gently consoled. “But I'm not buying into the whining this time. Numbers are just numbers… and we get to decide the weight we want to give them.”
So, that’s my current numbers game. Things don't always add up so neatly and the mystery continues. I wonder how much a heavy attitude weighs? Next up in the potentially impacting numbers category? My birthday. Hmmm…. How old would I be if I didn’t know how old I am?