This thing. This harmless contraption. This modern marvel of weights and measures. This fucker is the bane of my existence. Most days, this piece of plastic and metal will determine the course of the rest of my day. It will set the mood and either make me sick to my stomach or have me kicking up my heels and tra-la-la-la-la my ass out the door.
I hate this scale. I hate that it tells me the truth no matter how many chances I give it to lie in the 2 minutes it takes to step on, weigh, step off, frown, step on, weigh, step off, frown, step on, weigh and then step off again.
Today was my aunt's 44th birthday. I wanted to celebrate, be happy, feel good about meeting for lunch, but I just couldn't enjoy myself because the scale can't even tell the teeniest of teeny white lies.
1 comment:
Are those instructions on your scale? Because you shouldn't need instructions. Get on, look, Get off.
Also, fuck the scale.
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