Every Saturday morning, it was the same routine – me, on the scale,
dreading what I'd see.
And every time, the numbers mocked me, climbing steadily higher.
You see, when I was young, I danced. Ballet, jazz, tap - you name it. My body was my instrument, and I loved it.
Life was a breeze through my teens, 20s, and even into my mid-30s...until my 38th birthday hit.
Suddenly, every calorie stuck around, and every dance move was harder.
The dance studio, once my sanctuary, became a room of mirrors showing me a stranger.