This is what 222 pounds looks like...

What do you think of when you think of a 200-pound person? I can't answer that question for you, but I know what I think of. For most of my life, I didn't associate that number with beauty or health. The 200-pound mark has always been a psychological rubicon for me -- once crossed, and I crossed this particular milestone many, many years ago -- it represented a number that must be conquered, subdued. Beaten down, or beaten back. Annihilated.

Staying above that mark represented shame, and failure, and somehow being less of a full participant in life. Until, one day, it didn't anymore.

Sure, some might argue that acceptance means giving in. Knuckling under. Being lazy. Quitting. But somehow, in my journey to accept myself, I've truly come to see that the number doesn't mean anything.

I weighed myself yesterday. I'm going to break one of the last social taboos and tell the world what the scale said:

222 pounds

And this is what I looked like walking out the door yesterday:

Excuse the mess.
Dress: London Times Elbow Sleeve Side Drape Side Sheath Dress
Shoes: Payless Comfort Plus Janine Pointy-Toed Pump

I'm sure some of you still think that that picture represents someone who is unattractively large. Someone who should be embarrassed or ashamed. Someone who should be trying harder, being better, who shouldn't be happy about what she sees. And that's ok. But I can look at that picture and feel nothing but happy about the person smiling out of that picture.

The number is just a number. It doesn't mean anything real. My health is excellent. My blood pressure is lower than normal. My cholesterol is in the normal range. I exercise most days. I do pilates and teach dance and go to Zumba when I can fit a class into my schedule. I passed a stress test last year with flying colors. I feel healthy.

My ideal weight, according to all the charts, is 170 pounds, and that's at the high end of the range. To get to my "ideal weight," the person in that picture would have to lose more than 50 pounds. I wouldn't recognize her. (Also, none of my costumes would fit her.) I'm sure she would be a lovely person, but I think she's lovely now, inside and out. 

I know that sounds conceited. But I'm just being honest, and those of you who struggle with body image and self-acceptance, no matter your size or weight, know how hard it is to genuinely feel happy about the image in the mirror. Here's hoping we can all get there, and here's hoping I can stay there.

I'm really scared to post this publicly. But I have to keep reminding myself, people knowing my weight doesn't change anything. They see me every day. Putting a number on what they see might change how they see me, but it shouldn't. This is what 222 pounds looks like -- on me. It looks different on everyone. But the number itself is meaningless.  #itsjustanumber