As I step onto the tiny digital scale at my doctor's office, the doctor reads aloud: "204 pounds." She immediately follows it up with, "well, you don't look it."

It's not the first time I've heard that comment from a medical professional. Every time I'm forced to give my weight to a doctor or a nurse, I've had the same exact reaction: I don't look like someone who is 200 pounds.

I'm 5'5 and a comfortable 12/14 size. I can mostly fit into a large size in any brand. But by every technical definition, because of my number, I am seen as "overweight," or even unhealthy.

In society, there is something so dirty and negative about being in the over-200 club. We get a terrible reputation (and a gasp every time we say our weight). See for yourself: Ask five of your friends if they would consider a woman over 200 pounds fat. Most likely, they'll all say yes. I wouldn't be angry at anyone who called me fat by looking at my number on the scale. It's a high number. But the fact is that 200 pounds looks different on everyone, and my 200-pound body is strong and curvy.

A lot of people assume that being 200 pounds means you're inherently unhealthy. At a doctor's checkup last year, my doctor thought that because of my 204 pound weight I might have diabetes or hypothyroidism. After the blood tests came back, she was proven wrong. My numbers were totally normal.

I did find out that I had high cholesterol, however. This is because I like sharp, smelly cheeses and rich, creamy seafood dishes.

Even knowing the cause of my high cholesterol, I was still rattled. My father died of a heart attack in his fifties, I knew high blood pressure and heart disease ran in my family. So my doctor told me that losing 20 pounds would bring my cholesterol into a healthy zone. I vowed to do it for that reason. Not so I could be perceived as skinnier.

Still, it was difficult for me to lose any of the weight. A year at the gym yielded a measly five pound weight loss. But something else changed.

With my focused efforts, I had energy to get through my day. I wasn't winded walking up the stairs to my apartment anymore. I could run a mile and not feel like dying. I could hold all three warrior poses in yoga without shaking or wanting to rest. I was getting stronger and healthier.

And while I might still be in the 200 club, what's important is that I know I'm healthy. I know I still have 15 pounds to lose, but I'm doing it so I can keep this fabulous body alive for longer, not so I don't feel shame for my weight.

I don't mind telling people my weight at all, because I know I am none of the stereotypes that come with that number. I'm not sick and I'm not lazy (I can probably lift more than you at the gym). Sure, I sometimes eat what's bad for me (and I never turn down a glass of wine) but if missing out of those life experiences means a few extra pounds on my waist, so be it.

The number on the scale, ultimately, means very little to me. My size is a feeling, not a number. I feel, look, and am healthy, and that's what I want to be defined as — not as above or below some false fat/skinny line.

Courtesy of Rachel Kolman

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