I recently bought myself a new pair of bathroom scales. They are to replace the rather shabby, rusting ones that lurk behind my bathroom sink.I have not yet used them. They are, at this moment, sitting behind my sofa, glistening with newness and as yet unsullied by my ever increasing weight.
I am a liitle afraid of using them. With my old scales I knew where I was. With my old scales I could comfortably stand on them, first thing in the morning, devoid of all clothing, jewellery and make up ( they all add up in the poundage stakes, you know ) I could happily manipulate the amount I weighed depending on my position on the scales and I usually opted for the 'best of three' strategy.
There will be no such leniency with my new machine. They are ready, waiting for me with unsympathetic sterility.They are shining and clinical - full of digital wizardry and aggressive, critical information. The minute I step on them I will know for sure the exact amount of fat lurking on my thighs, the precise details of my obesity. There will be no lee way, no 'tricking' the mechanics.
These new scales are a merciless, unstoppable, lean, mean weighing machine. I can almost hear them breathing as they await me. They crouch with reptilian stealth, waiting their moment, the moment when I will be humiliated.There will be none of the creaking sympathy of my old scales. No, these ones will label me coldly, heartlessly. I will no longer by a person, but a pile of blubber. My shame, my weakness will be there for all to see. I would not be surprised if somewhere, hidden amongst the sleek glass and chrome, was a link to Twitter or Facebook, automatically updating the world with the intimate details of my Body Mass Index.
I have had them for two weeks now.... I am not sure if I will ever use them.
I am a liitle afraid of using them. With my old scales I knew where I was. With my old scales I could comfortably stand on them, first thing in the morning, devoid of all clothing, jewellery and make up ( they all add up in the poundage stakes, you know ) I could happily manipulate the amount I weighed depending on my position on the scales and I usually opted for the 'best of three' strategy.
There will be no such leniency with my new machine. They are ready, waiting for me with unsympathetic sterility.They are shining and clinical - full of digital wizardry and aggressive, critical information. The minute I step on them I will know for sure the exact amount of fat lurking on my thighs, the precise details of my obesity. There will be no lee way, no 'tricking' the mechanics.
These new scales are a merciless, unstoppable, lean, mean weighing machine. I can almost hear them breathing as they await me. They crouch with reptilian stealth, waiting their moment, the moment when I will be humiliated.There will be none of the creaking sympathy of my old scales. No, these ones will label me coldly, heartlessly. I will no longer by a person, but a pile of blubber. My shame, my weakness will be there for all to see. I would not be surprised if somewhere, hidden amongst the sleek glass and chrome, was a link to Twitter or Facebook, automatically updating the world with the intimate details of my Body Mass Index.
I have had them for two weeks now.... I am not sure if I will ever use them.
4 comments:
They'll ruin your life. Smash them - smash the now!
My daughter has scales like that and they scare me every time I see them, so cold and clinical. I bet if you don't keep them clean and sparkling, if you allow a trace of a footprint to remain, they will add on a few pounds!
I have heard that if you break the cookies before you eat them, the calories fall out.
A perfect solution! Then you will never have to climb on those scales.
I'm with Urban Cynic - die scales, die!!
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