I have a very odd relationship with my bathroom scale. It’s like one of those on again/off again love/hate relationships you see in most bad daytime TV dramas. If the numbers on it are moving down it’s my best friend. I visit it constantly, happily stepping on it multiple times a day and jotting down the falling numbers. If the number is moving up however it’s a totally different scenario. I don’t return any of it’s calls and only step on it when I’ve had too many drinks and it’s 3 in the morning and I shouldn’t be stepping on it ether way. No matter what the number is though I can normally step off the scale, rationalize the result somehow, and continue my dysfunctional relationship. Every once in a while though, I hop on there and get a number that results in a knock-down, drag-out, change my relationship status on Facebook to single, and lock myself in a room kind of funk. I think there is a number for all of us, that number that makes us look at ourselves grimly in the mirror and utter terrible words like, “fat-ass”, “gross”, or “disgusting” in our subconscious mind. For me that magical and evil number that makes me want to scream and yell at the universe for hours on end is 300 pounds.
Written by Kenin Bassart
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