A Sternly Worded Letter to my Bathroom Scales

Dear Scales:

You have been weighed in the scales, and found wanting!

This morning you told me I weighed

198.0

And I don’t understand why! I’ve been going for walks, counting my calories (well … kinda …) and also, I’m a really good person! So I don’t understand why you’re punishing me like this!

Oh! Well, sorry, then, Lord*! But I admit, I’m getting a little frustrated! And not to knock Science and everything, but y’know, I really need to find someone (else) to blame for this, because I’m getting dangerously close to my own personal Point of No Return!

Which, if you haven’t been paying attention to my mutterings as I stand on you* every morning, is 200 pounderinos! And you’re bringing me WAY too close to that number, Scales — like a Covidiot ignoring social distancing rules!

And yes I KNOW I haven’t been writing down ALL my calories, every day, and yes I KNOW I haven’t been doing any kind of meaningful workouts for weeks, other than the occasional hikes!

So I’m giving you fair warning — NEXT week, you better show a WAY lower number. ‘Cause I’ve got a hammer, and I know how to use it!

Sincerely,

Your Owner and, therefore, for the purposes of this blog entry, your Boss!

* and Scales!
** Still talking to the Scales here — not you, the reader! Much less to the Lord! Standing on the Lord might be all well and good from a poetic, theological standpoint but realistically, S/he might not appreciate it. And as I always say re: these pesky theological matters: why take chances?

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