She closed her eyes and stepped on the scale, peering at the
numbers one eye at a time. She hadn’t
seen that number in a while. Quick math
told her it was several digits above the last time she performed this
particular ritual.
It hadn’t been a week since she stepped on the scale, but
then again, surely it had been. The shampoo ran out that day. Her eyes darted to the garbage can. The empty bottle lay among the crumpled
up tissues and used cotton swabs.
Defeated, she leaned against the wall as the water from the
shower heated. Steam began to rise in
the small bathroom. In the distance, she thought she could
hear the strains of a familiar song: snack bags and candy wrappers crackled in a two-part harmony.
Her weakness fit like a pair of jeans that had been shrunk
in the dryer. A few more days like the past few and they
would fit her like her own skin, strangling her will and fortitude. She sadly realized that her failing will
eventually require new pants, a new identity, a whole new life.
Clouds of steam interrupted her thoughts. The water was scalding now. Stepping into it and out of her reverie, the
tune dissipated. As she performed the
motions of the mindless task, the siren song of the candy wrappers that had led
her to this moment hummed through her mind once again.
The day loomed.
*******
This exact scenario played itself out in my own bathroom as
I got on the scale after a summer of failing to exercise vigilantly and
employing haphazard eating habits. I
know, I have issues. With snacks and
candy, mostly. And of late, apple crisp
and brownies. Not to mention thinking of
myself as the heroine in a terrible novel.
Ugh. I need to lock
up all the food.
 |
| Is it too much to ask that they invent a bathroom
scale with built in empathy? I mean, I’m all for brutal honesty, but when my clothes are too tight I don’t really need my bathroom scale to tell me in hard numbers just how many pounds tight they really are. I need a scale that acts like a good friend who tells you that you look hot in that miniskirt but it probably isn’t appropriate for this particular evening, and asks if you want to join her on her all-salad diet tomorrow. Ah, well, it’s been fun, candy and chips. But back to the veggie patch for me. |
I haven't weighed myself at all this year.
ReplyDeleteI don't have to. I can SEE the pounds around my middle.
Sigh.
We need to be each other's support group, right? (and eat clean/ workout buddies?)
I WISH I hadn't weighed myself this year. Then I wouldn't know where I'd been.
DeleteBut, yeah. The clothes don't lie. Much.
I will be your support anytime! Put down that chocolate! (and give it to me.)
My scale and I are fighting each other at the moment, too. We are actually not even on speaking terms. What I am on excellent terms with, though? Sea Salt & Pepper Kettle Chips. We are besties.
ReplyDeleteLOLOL!!
DeleteI am on pretty intimate terms with Hershey's kisses presently, only because Mr. Goodbar left to set up a residence in my middle area.
Candy I can take or leave. But cheese?? In any form?? Forget it. :(
ReplyDeleteCheese is tricky, because it seems healthy (Calcium!) but it just makes me feel like a slug. Cream cheese is my arch enemy.
DeleteThe scale. It kind of is an evil invention.
ReplyDeleteReally. Whoever invented an affordable bathroom scale was either rail-thin, or just plain mean.
DeleteI weighed myself yesterday. Yeah, that heroine got FIRED.
ReplyDeleteI also need to fire my scale, because I've got it set up to automatically upload my weight to an app. So it's not like I can even pretend I didn't see that stupid number.
OMG. Delete that app. It is not your friend.
DeleteIs there a way to configure the scale to read 5 pounds lighter than the actual reading? Because I'd be on board with that.
The scale is a fickle friend. I ignored it for a long time, and then realized that I couldn't entirely do that. But I don't often like what it has to say. I like your idea for an empathetic scale much better!
ReplyDeleteIt should have a totally soothing voice, too.
DeleteIn my head the scale has a scary number, an uber scary number, and then the "Okay, Fluffy, that's officially enough" number. I reached the last stage three weeks ago. I'm officially back to counting calories, and darned it if it doesn't work. It is nice to be back around the uber scary number now and not have my pants cutting off circulation.
ReplyDeleteCounting calories always works. Now, if only I were good at math, because my pants and I are at a standstill.
DeleteI'm not big on scales. They don't make me happy usually. They make me kind of paranoid. I try to go by how I feel in my clothes....it's tough. You can do it though if that's what you want :)
ReplyDeleteI like to go by my clothes, too, but recently none of them fit, which is why the scale came into play. I had to see what I am dealing with here.
DeleteI do not own a scale - I got rid of it after my son was born, when the battery died. As long as my clothes fit, I'm good!
ReplyDeleteYou are a rock star! I like my doctor's scale - it's 5 pounds lighter than mine at home. If only I liked visiting the doctor, I'd be good!
DeleteIt will have automated honeyed voices saying, "Oh sweetie. You must be going through a rough patch!"
ReplyDeleteA brisk chin-up voice going, "Alrightie girl. Let's spring into action. What's the plan?"
A military voice barking out, "That's it you piece of @#*! Enough of these stupid antics!"
And you can choose which one to hit.
Yes! You draw up the prototype, I'll call the factory. I'd like Ryan Gosling for the the chin-up voice, I think.
DeleteLet me tell you the key to happiness:
ReplyDeletestep 1: never weigh yourself
step 2: use "do my jeans still fit?" as the benchmark for whether you need to lose weight
step 3: NEVER EVER EVER wash your jeans. This way they just stretch with you and never shrink back up to their real size.
you're welcome!
I am wearing a new pair of jeans and I think the dye smells bad. I am avoiding washing them by using the "do I smell something, or is it my imagination?" trick. So far, so good.
DeleteUgh...yes. I'm hating my scale right now too. Maybe our scales have conspired... But I'm back to low-carbing it... Sitting here munching almonds as I type... Less than thrilling...but at least they are cocoa-coated...flavor, but not sugar. I can live with it.
ReplyDeleteYeah, after this week's chocolate covered pomegranate debacle I find that I'm having to re-discover some more simple and less sinful snack habits. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. ;)
DeleteCocoa-coated anything sounds pretty darn good.