“Good morning, ” I say softly. I inhale and exhale. Vulnerable, I step onto the cool metal surface and await the verdict. Without the lighting, the dramatic music and fanfare, it is a morning version of The Biggest Lose with one exception……I’m in my birthday suit and Bob is not apologizing and telling me that I’m not the biggest loser. Vulnerability lies in my ability to even step up on my nemesis. I wait as the digital numbers blink and then settle on the digits of the day. I am aware that professionals, especially those in the mental health field, advise individuals not to weigh themselves every day, but like most things, I am not a rule follower. I cling to the bodily fluctuation that shows itself each day.
Let me be clear, I don’t think I am fat. I believe that I am built in God’s eyes, he just forgot the height. It’s fine. He and I had a discussion and this will be addressed in my next life. It happens. God is mass producing people, so there are bound to be some miscommunication on the orders. Kind of like when you go to Starbucks and order a venti and you get a grande. Shit happens. I have forgiven him a long time ago.
I have always been “big boned” as my mother would say. This made me confused because how can I have big bones when I am five foot tall? She engaged me in all types of activities. I blame her for the fact that my quads are the size of a linebacker from all the ballet and ice skating I did. The squishy belly is the product of giving birth to my two boys and my ample hips, well, my OGBYN states that my hips were “born to bear children” which will not appear on my epitaph. I can’t even talk about the boobs as they have a mind of their own. Basically, I haven’t gained any weight in a year, but I haven’t lost any either. The treadmill and I are close. We meet every morning which makes the scale really pissed. I dislike both of them, but suck up to the treadmill in hopes of a better relationship with the scale. It’s complicated.
I don’t know what I did to piss off my metabolism. It left me a note saying it was going out for milk, but never came back. I haven’t heard from the bitch in at least 10 years. I have forgiven, but not forgotten that she left me when I needed her most. Maybe I pissed her off with my relationship with the scale. I guess I will never know.
When the number stays the same, I change the batteries in the scale……just in case. When the number goes up a bit, you know when you are bloated, I change the batteries in the scale. It certainly is beneficial to have batteries in bulk. Just FYI…..changing the batteries has not changed the results. I am who I am. There is just a little more of me to enjoy which I tell my jeans every day.
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