I had a baffling conversation with a friend the other day that left me absolutely…baffled.

The thing that totally blew up my mind was during the part of our conversation that turned to body image and our own individual struggles with it. I could not believe that this woman would ever feel like she was big or fat or unattractive or needed to lose weight. I could not believe that because every time I see her all that I see is this petite, thin, and beautiful woman. I look at her and think about how it would feel to be like her…to be a petite, thin, and beautiful woman like her. I compare myself to her and wish I could have the body and features that she has.

But this is what got me: she does the same to me. She told me that she wishes she could trade bodies with me, and I totally laughed and laughed because I could not believe it to be true. I literally told her, “why in the world would you want my body? I’m just tall and big and awkward.”

And that’s how I feel most times: tall and big and awkward. I can’t imagine how it feels to feel petite and small and graceful.

Then she said that she would love to be tall like I am, because it looks elegant.

And then I said I want to be shorter like her, because it looks so cute and adorable and so…little.

Here we were, both wishing to be different than we were…both wishing for what the other had. I wanted to look like her, she wanted to look like me. I guess the old adage is true: the grass is always greener on the other side.

I left that conversation with this strange feeling in my soul…like something significant had happened, but I didn’t really know what. I just knew one thing: woman are crazy. Maybe crazy isn’t the right word…but then, maybe it is. I don’t call us crazy in a derogatory way, because I love women and I love being one. But I call us crazy because here we are, each with a beauty and person and life all our own…and a wonderful beauty and person and life all our own…but yet we want to be someone else. Whether you want to be someone else in their body, personality, or talents, we’re all so willing to throw ourselves away so we can be someone else.

And in the process, we lose something valuable: we lose ourselves.

Since that conversation, I can feel this thing rising up inside of me that sees the absolute futility of this entire comparison trap. I see how destructive it is to our hearts, and even to our bodies. I mean, I’ve seen it before, and even blogged about it a few times…but this is another layer.

It.is.so.crazy.

It’s crazy because I know that if I had been born with a body type different than the one I have…let’s say I did have the five-foot-four-inch frame and petite woman features like my friend…then I have no doubt that I would find myself doing the exact same thing she is…wishing for all of the five-foot-eight-inch frame and tall woman features that I have.

Do you see how crazy this is? Do you see how it drives you to a place so far away from where the heart and goodness of God wants you to be? Do you see how all this comparison and hating on ourselves and wishing to be someone so totally different is straight from the enemy? Do you see how glorious and gorgeous and breathtaking you are, but that you can only live that out to the world when you are living in that place of rest in who you are?

I essentially lose my beauty when I compare anything about who I am to something that someone else is. And that is exactly what the devil wants. He wants us to lose ourselves, to lose the unique beauty and soul that the breath of God poured into us. But Jesus wants something different. He wants us to own ourselves, to celebrate all that we are in Him. And dare I say, He wants us to celebrate all that we are in our own bodies as well, no matter what those bodies look like.

I don’t always see it, but today I do.

And I’m determined to beat the system of expectations and numbers and only-eat-twelve thousand-calories-a-day-so-you-can-look-beautiful (which is a ridiculous and sad way to live, by the way) and try-to-look-like-a-supermodel-because-that’s-what-the-world-tells-us-is-beautiful (which is also a ridiculous and sad way to live). Because that way is not the way that Jesus died to give to me. He died to give me peace, life, and rest…and the enemy will do whatever he can to take any and all of those away from me.

He’s not taking it away today.

And let me tell you this: it takes great courage to own yourself. It takes great courage to be ok with yourself, with your body, and your abilities, and personality. It takes even greater courage to celebrate those things about yourself. But I know without a doubt that that is what the Lord wants for us. I know that because it is the way of peace, joy, and life, and He died to give us all of those things.

Be beautiful today, dear hearts.

What about you: in what ways do you find comparison stealing from you?

I’d love to hear your thoughts!

We have a scale in our house, but I don’t use it.

I used to use it. Almost every day, actually. I used to step on that scale with a mixture of both fear and excitement, having to know what it was going to tell me about myself. I felt fear over what the number might be, but I also felt excitement over what the number might be. If the number was one I liked, than everything was ok. I was still ok. But if it was higher than I wanted, fear grabbed me and took me even deeper into control and striving. I would have to eat less or exercise more or somehow punish myself for allowing that number to go up.

I actually don’t even like numbers. Math was my least favorite subject in school, and I made my lowest grades in this class. Numbers are too unbending for me. They require way too much structure and strict adherence to following formulas and equations. Even managing my money numbers is just a huge chore for me. I just don’t like numbers.

Funny then, that I gave them so much power over my life for so long.

But numbers are losing their power over me now. I don’t assign myself to a number any more…no weight number, no clothing size number, no numbers. Because I’m not a number.

I haven’t stepped on a scale for over eight months now, and honestly, I don’t know if I ever will again. The last time I weighed myself, I had a complete melt down, because the number that stared back at me was a one that I said I would never find myself at again. But that’s just it: it’s just a number. Just an insipid little number.

It’s a number that tells me nothing about myself. It doesn’t tell me if I am beautiful or kind or gracious or fun or loved or good enough or intelligent or witty or awesome. It doesn’t tell me if I am a good wife or good mother or good friend…it doesn’t tell me that I cannot eat enough or that I have to work out more. It doesn’t tell me anything that matters. It’s just a number.

I’m not saying that no one should ever use a scale, because it can be a beneficial tool in certain situations. And some people can weigh themselves and not let it affect their self-image or feelings about themselves. But you know in your heart if that scale is something that you have given any kind of power to…any kind of power to validate or invalidate you. The scale will always fluctuate, always change, and especially if you’re a woman. We get some strange stuff going on sometimes, don’t we?

If you find yourself using the scale to give you worth or beauty, I want you to know that it doesn’t give you either. It can perhaps give you a perceived worth or beauty, but that’s only in your own head, in your own heart. The scales and the numbers will never define you.

Just remember this: the numbers only have power if you give it to them. Otherwise, they mean nothing.

What about you: what are your thoughts about the scale and the numbers?

I’d love to hear your thoughts!