Yesterday, I finally took out The weighing scale again. She was dusty and grimy but none the worse for wear. I hadn’t seen her in years, except for that brief moment three weeks ago when I cross-checked her accuracy with the giant body weighing scale at the doctor’s clinic. (She’s still good!) Mind you, I’ve never really liked her one bit- not even when she was clean, pink, and perky. I mean, how could anything pink be terribly, horribly brutal?
I suppose she was happy to see the light of day again, after being swept into the forgotten recesses of my son’s underbed, then purposely forgotten and given up for lost. Dust bunnies aside, I think she was pretty lonely there, the punishment of her proof that I had breached all-new high weight records and gone to all-new lows of self-delusion.
Yesterday, however, was different. I sought her with an apology in mind and a willingness to come clean.”C’mon, pink weighing scale, give it to me straight. I can take it now,” I dared her. And lo and behold, as she creaked and groaned under my weight, she gave me, what seemed to me, her first act of kindness in years.
I have lost six pounds in two weeks!
I’m six, I’m six less pounds today!
What the…! Oh, my…! Yeah!!! YES!!!
Suddenly, giving up my favorite foods doesn’t hurt as much. Yes, yes, yes!
So today I am celebrating this new relationship and forging a new friendship with the little pink thing that hides under the bed. You’ll be seeing much more of me from now on, little friend. You can count on it.