There, I’ve said it….I admit it fully, there is absolutely no denying it.
I am an “addict.” What’s my vice you ask? It’s my bathroom scale…I am addicted to it, I cannot go a day without getting on it…my scale and I have a special relationship.
Yes, yes, I know, the scale doesn’t always tell the truth. There are days when I loath that damn scale, I hate it with a passion, but it speaks to me every morning, I hear it calling out to me and the moment I awake, I have to answer it’s call. Of course, there’s the stop to go to the bathroom first, I simply cannot visit with the scale without first visiting the toilet. I’m sure the scale is jealous, as the toilet laughs and says, “Ha, ha…she comes to me first.” But the scale is not easily taunted, for it know the control it has over the Goddess who is about to stand upon it, with her bare feet and her naked body, the scale knows it can make or break her day.
That scale has a special place too, that nothing else is allowed to touch…placed very carefully within one marble tile on the floor, always aligned, always in the exact same spot, in the exact same position. “Here she comes” the scale taunts back to the toilet, “She’s mine now, I’ve got her right where I want her.”
I stand there, looking down, wondering to myself if it will be good to me today, or if it will continue to frustrate me as it has done for so very long. I wonder if I should try to go to the bathroom one more time, even though I just did two minutes ago. Slowly, I remove my slippers and press the button wit my big toe…I know I am addicted, but I can’t help myself.
You see, that scale has been an integral part of my life for over three years now…it’s seen me through a lot of good times and for the most part it has been very good to me. It rewards me for my hard work and has given me joy each time it shows me that I’m closer and closer to my goal. Yet, these days, it is not so good to me, the closer I get to my goal, the harder that scale is on me. There will be days and weeks where it won’t budge, it refuses to listen to my pleas of mercy, my begging is futile. It’s cruelty really shows when rather then going down, it will go up…and for no apparent reason. I didn’t cheat, I didn’t eat more than I was supposed to and I certainly didn’t eat something that wasn’t allowed and I worked out hard. I was a good girl, yet the scale seems to find pleasure in making my rewards these days far and few between.
17lbs, that’s all I am asking it for, 17lbs…is that so hard to give me? After all, it has given me over 200 already, why should 17 be so hard? Yes, I said it, no, it was not a typo…200, my scale has given me 200 lbs, I have worked and worked hard for it and I have been rewarded. Yes, I could have taken the easy way out, but I didn’t want to go that route, I wanted to change my life, but didn’t want to change it that drastically. So, I have worked, I have been focused, determined and I let absolutely nothing get in the way of reaching my ultimate prize.
For 43 years the scale was my enemy, it wasn’t my friend, we rarely visited and now, I cannot be without it. If I have to go out of town for a few days, I swear if there were a way, I would take my friend with me. Recently, I had to fly north for a funeral and had to leave my precious scale behind, but I never forget about my scale, thinking about it every day and counting the days until we could visit once again. My beloved told me he was going to move my scale and not give it back to me until I had been home for at least a week. You see, while I was away, I couldn’t go to the gym, I had little control over the foods that we reserved at family get together’s and of the restaurants that were chosen. I tried very hard to make good choices while I was gone, but, as my scale reminds me daily, even when I make good choices, I do not always receive the expected reward.
January 5, 2005…The scale and I started to bond, as time went on, our friendship grew, there came a time when I looked forward to our visits with excitement and as we said goodbye, I was virtually counting the moments until we met again. But now, my friend isn’t always so good to me, there are days when I feel betrayed, because I know it does not always state the truth. I used to depend on the scale, it was something I could count on and now, it’s taunts me.
Slowly, I wait for the beep which tells me it is ready for me to stand upon it’s precious pedestal, I step up, holding my breath, refusing to look down, listening to it count down…5, 4, 3, 2, 1…beep, beep, beep. Now, I am allowed to look, Slowly I look, hoping today it will give me that reward I need so much, I let my breath out with a sigh of relief, 4 ounces, today it has given me 4 ounces, it has rewarded my hard work. These days any downward trend is a sign of victory, a reward for me, today, I am relieved, my friend was good to me. Perhaps tomorrow’s visit will also be a blessing to our friendship.
I don’t know if I will ever be able to end my addiction, is there a cure? I wonder if it will ever be possible to be without my scale, will I be able to put it in the back of my mind and visit only once in a while? Or, will there come a time where I am able to just end our relationship and cut off my addiction, never to be seen again?
I’m not sure what the answers are to those questions, but I do know where I will be tomorrow morning…standing there, naked and barefoot, holding my breath, hoping for the smallest of rewards.
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