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Hell of a Scale

I awaken to address the podium of steel again, seeking a number to represent my accomplishment. Yet the feelings of familiar disappointment darken the day. Experienced repeatedly, my efforts escape visibility on the weighing contraption. I step upon cold metal expecting change, yet nothing to gain except a vision of inaccuracy, my efforts not equating with results. Though one tool beckoning beneath me as an inexact science, I give it credence to show me my worth when my value hangs in the balance elsewhere. Fool-me-once, shame on you, fool-me-twice causing torment again, shame on me. I explore life’s details searching for answers, an explanation of the number representing me today until another layer of liquid, fat, or food assembles or disappears.

My mind retorts, altering the path from peace to darkness, and a fiery hell stands before me. Yet visible results in bodily measurements, clothing sizes decreasing, and waves of energy pouring from my pores sound a different alarm. A number cannot define my unit of measure, the core that beholds my self-worth. It only disempowers me if I offer it an allowance for which to spend torturing its victims. Embrace the decision to no longer visit the gates of hell that shell-shock its visitors with visions of darkness, heated anger, and depression in droves during the morning occupancy. Quickly release from any engagement with the devil that stands guard to ruin the day. Throw the temptress in the garbage; its use is futile at best. I need not be fooled when the outcome is dishonest, inaccurate, and foolhardy.

Should I hang onto it a tad longer, rearrange my feet, balance on one foot, and lean to one side, until the number falls in my favor, or justify the handicap I give it while awaiting the correct number to appear? The angels sing and life calls me forward for recognition of my accomplishments. Suddenly illuminated by the presence of joy, congratulatory praise, and a lightness of being, I spring off the metal contraption to the breakfast table boosted by a celebratory meal. Food rewards earned, I release the need to alter edibles to healthy options. By morning after, I tender my resignation and know the devil warrants accurate results today when yesterday was a mere discrepancy by the hell of a scale.

Published inHealthy Avenue

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