I moved in with my then boyfriend, now husband and along with me came Mr. Rusty Trusty Scale. This scale had more power than anyone should give an inanimate object. It was like my disciplinarian, my godfather;
my shitty friend that only spoke truths and gave crappy advice. It told me when I was bad and good. It could lift me up one moment and crash me down a couple of hours later. It was a true love hate relationship. I could not live with it. I could not live without it. It was an albatross. I would step on the scale many times in one day. I gave it all the power to determine my worth. It was a sociopath. I grew accustomed to its daily abuse. Like any abusive relationship I could not imagine my life without it.
Until one day...
My Hubs sat me down with a tool box and demanded I take it apart. He said scales do not belong in this house. I sat for a long while wondering how I would ever determine my own worth? What would life be like if I didn't know the number? How will I continue to "inspire" myself to lose weight or track where I was at? I took off the top cover. Inside was a myriad of springs, cogs and wheels. Slowly but surely I picked apart the metal parts sobbing as if I were a lost child in the mall. I cried until my head ached and my face hurt. After a while, I looked around and I was surrounded by hundreds of little metal and plastic whirligigs. Now the scale exposed, it was nothing more that a hunk of scrap.
The Hubs came wandering over and took the top and bottom parts of the scale and put a little piece of paper inside. He stood me up and told me to stand on the scale. I was confused and feeling overwhelmed by his actions. He told me to look down. When I did I saw a little yellow piece of paper from underneath the glass where the numbers used to haunt me but now it was filled with the words, "You're Beautiful." That was 11 years ago and I have not stepped on a scale since and I do not miss it, not one bit.
Hugs & Shit
The Momma
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