I Thought I Needed to Lose Weight. What I Actually Needed Was Strength.

There was a time when I genuinely believed that losing weight would solve most of my problems.

If the weighing scale showed a smaller number, I imagined I would automatically feel healthier, happier and more confident. Looking back, I realise how much power I had unknowingly given to those few digits. They had become a measure of how successful I thought I was at taking care of myself.

I don't think I was unusual in feeling that way. Like many women, I had grown up hearing conversations around weight far more often than conversations around health. We complimented people for becoming thinner. We discussed diets more than nourishment. We worried about fitting into old clothes much before we worried about whether our body felt strong, energetic or pain-free. Somewhere along the way, I too had accepted the idea that becoming smaller was the same as becoming healthier.

For years, that belief quietly influenced the choices I made.

There was a phase in my early thirties when I skipped meals because I thought eating less would help me lose weight. There were days when I felt guilty after eating sweets or something fried. If I had indulged a little during a family gathering, I would often try to compensate by exercising more the next day. There were moments when I stood in front of the mirror and criticised my own reflection instead of appreciating everything my body was doing for me. I compared myself with women who looked slimmer and convinced myself that perhaps they had figured something out that I hadn't.

At that time, I honestly thought I was trying to become healthier.

Today, I realise I was simply trying to become smaller.

The interesting thing is that even when we lose weight, the relationship we have with our body doesn't automatically improve. If our thoughts are built on criticism, they usually find something new to criticise. If we believe our worth depends on the way we look, the finish line keeps moving. We lose a few kilos, then we want to lose a few more. We achieve one goal, only to replace it with another.

I don't remember one particular day when my thinking changed. It happened gradually as I learnt more about health, studied nutrition, deepened my yoga practice and eventually introduced strength training into my routine. The more I understood the human body, the more I realised how unfairly I had been treating my own.

My body had carried me through difficult phases of life.

It had recovered after childbirth.

It had supported me through long days, emotional struggles and countless responsibilities.

It had never stopped trying to take care of me.

And yet, all I seemed to notice were the things I wanted to change about it.

That thought stayed with me for a long time.

Slowly, my focus began shifting. Instead of asking how I could weigh less, I started asking how I could become stronger. At first, it felt like a small change in language, but it slowly changed the way I approached almost everything.

Strength meant something very different.

It meant having enough energy to get through the day without constantly feeling exhausted.

It meant protecting my bones and muscles as I grew older.

It meant lifting weights with confidence instead of being afraid of them.

It meant carrying my own luggage while travelling, sitting comfortably on the floor with my family and getting back up without thinking twice.

It meant building a body that supported the life I wanted to live instead of chasing an appearance that would probably never satisfy me for very long.

Perhaps the biggest transformation wasn't physical at all.

It was emotional.

The guilt around food slowly reduced because I stopped looking at meals as something that had to be earned. Exercise stopped feeling like punishment because it was no longer about burning calories. It became a way of celebrating what my body could do. I found myself feeling proud after completing a strength workout, not because I had burnt a certain number of calories, but because I could feel myself becoming more capable.

Even the weighing scale slowly lost its importance.

There was a time when stepping on it could decide whether I had a good day or a bad one. Today, I pay much more attention to things it can never measure. Am I sleeping well? Do I have enough energy to teach my classes? Is my body recovering well? Can I lift a little heavier than I could a few months ago? Am I moving without pain? These questions tell me far more about my health than any number ever could.

Entering my forties made this shift even more meaningful.

Perimenopause brought changes that I couldn't control. My body responded differently. Recovery took longer, hormones fluctuated and I experienced changes that many women quietly go through but rarely discuss. Had I still been chasing only weight loss, I think these changes would have left me feeling defeated. Instead, I found myself returning to the practices that had already taught me to respect my body rather than fight it. Yoga continued to ground me, strength training reminded me that my body was still capable and nourishing food helped me support it through a new phase of life.

Today, when women tell me that they only want to lose weight, I understand exactly where they are coming from because I have stood in that place myself. I never dismiss their goal because I know it often comes from a genuine desire to feel better. But somewhere in the conversation, I gently encourage them to think about another goal alongside it.

What if the real goal isn't simply to lose weight?

What if the real goal is to build a body that allows us to live fully for decades to come?

The older I get, the more convinced I become that strength is one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves. Not just physical strength, but the strength to nourish ourselves without guilt, to move because we enjoy it, to respect the changing needs of our body and to stop measuring our worth by the number on a weighing scale.

Looking back, I don't think I was really searching for a smaller body all those years.

I was searching for confidence, energy, health and peace with myself.

I just didn't realise at the time that none of those things were waiting at a particular number on the weighing scale.

They were waiting on the other side of learning to become stronger.