|Here is the devil I need to make friends with today.|
In my house the
record keeper of infamy, the scale, has been used for
everything but its function. It is an extra shelf on the floor so
magazines can be piled on top of it. Scale batteries are never replaced
so it is dark if stepped on which it never is. Even better, I've tossed
scales in the garage hiding them where I can't easily get to them.
molder and rust, unloved, forgotten. Matching my yo-yo weight loss to
the loathsome devices, I must have purchased, dumped out and repurchased
white scales, clear scales, electronic high points, to fit my bathroom
decor and mental readiness. When I've purchased a new one, I fantasized I
was turning over a new leaf and readying myself for a different weight
loss plan or iconic transformation. "Fat" chance. Over the years I have thrown out fifty in the various Spring clean-ups, probably 100 if I allow for the truth.
my excess weight is not recorded by sight,
in the mirror or on the scale, it doesn't exist in my mind. There is
always the comforting thought, I will diet
tomorrow. Tomorrow is pushed farther back into next year. Next year
never comes. Until there is recognition and fear, the decision to do
something is pushed away. But sometimes, the light comes: forgiveness
for my ugly fat is accepted, a particle of self-love and acceptance is
received and a miracle
occurs. I make the decision to diet. This is a long time coming. And
though it may come, after initial weight loss, it will leave.
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