The Scale Scale.

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But how important is it really? Sure, the numbers don’t lie, of course except when they do?

You all know what I mean right? You work and you grind and you dig real deep and you scale the heights of Mont Blanc to within an inch of your life, and for what? For the scale staring back at you with the same grim look on its face from under your feet. Sometimes the only bit of solace you get from the damnable thing is the fact that you can see its sneer at all and for that matter your feet too?!

But how important is it really? Sure, the numbers don’t lie, of course except when they do? I was gifted a talking one, (clearly the giftor was aware of my stomach’s remarkable ability to keep my fear of heights at bay), which is more adept to the performing arts than the sciences. I can go from Hagrid to Dumbledore in the same day? Hopefully you will have noticed that, a) BOTH of those characters weigh more than I ought to, and that, b) I indeed said in the same day. I am obsessed with the stupid scale. In fact, the scale to which it has taken over my mindset is scary. I will check first thing in the morning, on occasion (always) at around 4ish with the ill fated hopes of a fat-avalanche having taken place and then again at post-workout-pre-bed time. You may well think this is excessive, but you all do it! Even you in the size 8’s who frankly cause the scales to roll their eyes, need the number fix?

But I am resolve to drop this incessant stepping up on to the platform of deception and mind games. Enough already! I say we have a full on revolt against this rigid destiny destroyer, just another gypsy in hoops with a cart with a ball of lard! I say We fight! Fight the urge to rest it all on the cruel counter of late night cookie dough! I’m going to make it my mission to step off and get measuring instead!…just as soon as I get off this one and get dressed again…

Mrs. Tea

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