A Tale of a Weighing Scale
She looked unhappy today and I hate to see her like that.
I think I ruined her day, or perhaps an entire week.
She looked unhappy today and I hate to see her like that. I think I ruined her day, or perhaps an entire week. What if she decides to forego consuming essential nutrients just to make me show a couple of digits less? I cannot fathom what has possessed her and where can I find an exorcist. I think it all started since she read that article “Flab to Fab” in a cosmopolitan magazine issue. Or was it “Get glam for your man”? Well, I do not remember. But it was something on those lines of absurdity. Hold on, it looks like I haven’t introduced myself yet. I am a weighing scale, and I have some conniving powers. I can ruin or uplift your mood in a matter of seconds simply by showing digits on my screen. The girl I am talking about is the one who bought me a couple of months ago and has made me her housemate.
You think you had a terrific weekend at that new pub with your friends. Wait until you get up with a sickening hangover and step up on me to check the horrifying effects of boisterous revelry. The deadly combination of excessive alcohol, greasy food, and dehydration will render you in tears when you see the digits I choose to show you. It hurts that very few feel content after getting on me. They never seem happy with the digits I show them, and either want to see them lower or higher. After all, I am just a harmless machine invented by humans, showing numbers that are invented by humans as well. Yet, I have the capability of creating insecurity even in the stereotypically most beautiful. Humans, why did you give me so much power to crush your own self-esteem?
Once I even heard a girl calling herself a pear, another girl joined in and claimed to be an apple? Am I drunk or these girls were seriously comparing their body shapes to fruits? How can such gorgeously complex creatures reduce their worth to mere fruits? I laugh at the absurdity of this fixation with me. As far as you are active, healthy, and your weight isn’t affecting your vital functions, does it matter what digits I show you? I was invented for a purpose. But looks like the purpose has got lost, and I am mostly a source of self-loathing in humans. People look at me with dread as if I am a bearer of bad news, instead of just a machine that measures weight.
I am not asking you to never take me seriously. Good health is an asset, and it will always benefit you. But please, do not get obsessed with me. Do not stop exercising because you don’t see the change in the digits you want to see. Do not develop harmful eating habits just because the digits you see aren’t the “ideal” digits. Do not feel unworthy just because you do not see digits you are supposed to see. I wish I could tell you how amazing it is to be a human. I simply recommend you to eat well, exercise well, and live well. So next time, when you find me sitting quietly in the corner of some room do not treat me like your nemesis. After all, we are housemates. Can we try to become friends?