My mother, in her infinite patience, taught six-year-old me how to “borrow” in subtraction during the summer after second grade— because I just didn’t get it. The idea that I just wasn’t good at math stayed with me for a long time.

As I got older, I realized that I can do math. My application of mathematical principles doesn’t exactly rival Albert Einstein’s legacy, but I do okay. I apply my understanding of math to figure out square footage, determine the size container I need to store the leftovers, and adjust my food macros so the percentages are correct in MyFitness Pal. On occasion, I even find myself solving for a missing variable. There’s no doubt that knowing some basic mathematics comes in handy, even in the presence of modern technology.

Math is essential when looking for answers to questions that are, in fact, measurable. In a world of uncertainty, math can provide us with a definitive answer. 2+2=4. We will always be able to draw that conclusion. Whether it’s apples, puppies or shots of tequila. Two plus two will always equal four.

But what about when we try to use math as a guide to help us draw conclusions where the numbers seem clear, but the answers are misleading? Is a lower score on a standardized test always indicative of lower intelligence? Could it be a result of a nervous test taker?

Or a simple Body Mass Index (BMI) calculation, which takes into account height and weight. What if a person carries a high percentage of muscle, causing them to weigh more? Certainly we wouldn’t want to draw a conclusion that they are obese.

In our desire to have a precise explanation for everything, I sometimes wonder if we haven’t become a bit overzealous in assigning numeric values to qualities that are, in reality, much more subjective. We use numbers to determine young vs. old, fit vs. unfit. But in these cases, isn’t math only a part of the story? The problem is that when we don’t consider all the variables, the quantitative answer often leads us to damaging qualitative conclusions.

When looking at fit vs. unfit—if we use BMI as a measurement, we don’t take into account body fat percentage. When looking at old vs. young, is it always appropriate to group people in categories such as “over 50” or “under 35”—for everything?

Of course, numbers may serve as a guide. But where several factors may be involved in determining the ultimate mathematical answer, we need to examine how those influences might have affected our results—before arriving at a qualitative judgment.

In the case of standardized intelligence tests, if we use the numeric results as the only way to determine intelligence, we run the risk of not accounting for the many possibilities that may have influenced the score, such as poor test taking skills, language barrier, or illness.

If we use the number on the bathroom scale to determine whether we are thin enough, we face the possibility of striving for something that may actually not be healthy or realistic, since we are not including all the factors that go into determining that number, such as muscle mass/body fat.

Placing undue importance on these numbers can cause us to feel that we are too heavy, too unintelligent, or too old. Judging ourselves against a number that defines where we “should be” can be a dangerous game that leaves us feeling like we are less than enough.

Isn’t it possible that sometimes a number is just a number? And any value beyond that is largely just opinion?

Here’s an interesting experiment regarding age:

In 1981, psychologist Ellen Langer conducted an experiment with eight men in their 70s, in good health. at a converted monastery in New Hampshire. Before arriving, the men were assessed on measures as dexterity, grip strength, flexibility, hearing and vision, memory and cognition. Some had arthritis, some stooped over, some walked with canes.

Everything inside the monastery — including the books, music, television and the magazines were designed to recreate 1959. The men in the experimental group were told to inhabit 1959 — to make a psychological attempt to be the person they were 22 years ago. From the time they entered, they were treated as if they were younger. Each day, the men talked about 1950s artifacts and events in the present tense. There were no mirrors, no modern clothing, and no photos, with the exception of portraits of their younger selves

At the end of their five day stay, the men were tested again. They were suppler, showed greater manual dexterity and sat taller. Even their sight improved. Independent judges said they looked younger. Langer said the subjects “put their mind in an earlier time,” and their bodies played along.

I am not suggesting that we dismiss all numbers or calculations as useless—even in some of the situations described, numbers may serve as guidelines. I am implying, however, that sometimes we need to look beyond the numerical value to find the real value of what we are hoping to learn from the results.

What are you allowing numbers to say about you? Take a moment to think about it. Because even though math can be amazing, sometimes those numbers just don’t add up.

“It would be possible to describe everything scientifically, but it would make no sense; it would be without meaning, as if you described a Beethoven symphony as a variation of wave pressure.” – Albert Einstein