I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t worried about being fat.

I suffered through the indignities of having my BMI measured and announced publicly in gym class and struggling through the Presidential Physical Fitness test twice a year (fuck you, flexed arm hang). I did endless sit-ups in my room in the middle of the night to ensure I would pass. I went on ‘diets’ where I restricted my eating before I was 10. I wrote down everything I ate in my diary. It is a very boring diary.

I look perfectly healthy in old pictures, but as a tall girl, I felt huge by comparison to my petite classmates.

Over the years, I’ve struggled with some body dysmorphia, a malady that the Mayo Clinic defines as a mental health disorder in which you can't stop thinking about one or more perceived defects or flaws in your appearance — a flaw that appears minor or can't be seen by others. This means that my body's shape and size have been a nearly constant obsession to varying degrees for most of my life.

In the past year, I've done a good job managing this issue. My family and I have tried to stay active. I cook most nights, and our plates are colorful and fresh. I’m focused on getting through each day, each week, each month. We have our moments, but we are feeling hopeful and, so far, healthy.

So when our pediatrician told me at a recent check-up that she was concerned about my son’s BMI, I was surprised and stunned. His BMI was 19, putting him in the 93rd percentile for boys his age, just below the CDC's definition of obese.

He is seven years old.

The doctor lectured me that my son should eat more fruits and vegetables (he’s not a fan); and how I should give him skim milk instead of whole (no, thank you). I mentioned that I thought we were all much more sedentary due to the pandemic, but she brushed me off, saying that studies show that nutrition issues were more to blame than a change in activity levels. I felt irritation growing in my chest.

When she went on to tell me that ‘avocados have a lot of fat,’ I kept quiet and managed to get us through the rest of the appointment, but everything she said after that sounded like an adult from the Peanuts cartoons.

Just to be sure there were no underlying issues (OTHER THAN A PANDEMIC? I felt like screaming), she suggested we get a blood test and sent us on our way.

While we did get the blood tests (all is well, thankfully), the whole encounter left me fuming. My son is a funny, smart kid who is athletic and thriving. In fact, he’s really strong. His baseball coaches say he’s doing great, and he can run for hours when he’s keeping up with his big brother at the park. He’s a fit and healthy kid, so FU, BMI.

Turns out, science is on my side.

Recently, the Women and Equalities Committee of the UK Parliament determined that the use of the Body Mass Index (BMI) in determining if an individual's weight is healthy should be scrapped immediately. The Committee concluded that BMI actually contributes to health issues such as eating disorders and people's mental health by disrupting body image and inviting social stigmas.

The Committee calls for the use of BMI to be stopped and for the adoption of a 'Health at Every Size' approach, which prioritizes health lifestyle choices over correcting weight.

Author, podcaster extraordinaire, and columnist Aubrey Gordon, who has written under the pseudonym “Your Fat Friend,” wrote a New York Times OpEd piece titled, ‘Leave Fat Kids Alone.’ She noted that calling out BMI doesn’t help kids and their families: Just the opposite.

Gordon research reveals much about the flawed ways that society abuses the BMI. “Observational studies in Arkansas and California have shown that the practice of parental notification doesn’t appear to lead to individual weight loss or an overall reduction in students’ BMIs,” Gordon writes. “One eating disorder treatment center called the report cards a ‘pathway to weight stigma’ that would most likely contribute to the development of eating disorders in predisposed students.”

“The effects of stigma were especially dire for young people, very fat people, and those who started dieting early in life,” continues Gordon. “To cope, 79 percent of all respondents reported eating, 74 percent isolated themselves, and 41 percent left the situation or avoided it in the future. Rather than motivating fat people to lose weight, weight stigma had led to more isolation, more avoidance, and less support.”

I’ve written about my Loving Kindness meditation practice and how I’m working on the idea that fitness (now called wellness, right?) shouldn’t be a punitive experience. While I have gained some weight this year, I’m strong and healthy, I have no idea what my BMI is, and I don't fucking care. Loving Kindness is helping me to see my physical self as perfect as it is. Not without goals or ambition, but I'm grateful and well right now, and I hope to help my kids feel the same about themselves.

As I was working on this essay, my son climbed up on my lap. I wondered to myself how much longer he’ll want me to hold him like this. He is quickly becoming a grown-up kid, with long arms and legs that he has to curl up for both of us to fit on the chair.

No matter what some government chart says, I refuse to put the weight of a label on him or on myself. We have more important things to do, I think, as I give him a hug and inhale his sweet, just-from-the bath scent.

We are too busy being happy.