300 – A Haunting Reality and Harbinger of Change

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.

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