Just when you think you have problems,
life reminds you of your disowned alcoholic coke head friend.
I can’t stand it.
There are too many beautiful, slender, attractive people on my dash. It makes me hate myself. Absent for a while.
All I want to do is eat a million protein bars. Hunger.
New Scale, Restaurant
So, we all knew the scale in my mom’s bathroom was a dirty liar and a lazy shit.
You would step on it one time, another time, another time, and get three different weights. If you weighed yourself too often, like once a day for a week, the weight wouldn’t change. Sometimes I would weigh myself, hold something heavy and weigh myself against just to psych the thing out, put the heavy thing down, and then weigh in a final time at a lower weight than the first. It was all rather ridiculous.
But, that dirty, lying, lazy shit of a scale was also a cheap whore. It weighed me around one full pound lighter than the scale in my room. That’s why I kept using it. To start using my own scale would set me a pound back, and why not just be in denial until I pass my deadline?
Today, though, my mom bought a new scale. It’s really nice looking, all green glass with a minimalist digital display. The numbers zoom up as you step on, settle, and then a final weight blinks up at you definitively and repeatedly. This. Is. Your. Weight. And. It’s. One. Point. Two. Pounds. Higher. Than. What. Your. Other. Delusional. Scale. Was. Telling. You. Suck. It. Up.
Sigh. I’ll be using it from now on.
In other news, I have to eat at a restaurant tomorrow. Fuck. That totally throws my whole day. I haven’t eaten at a restaurant since… last December? Hopefully it’s someplace where I can get a calorie count for their menu. And hopefully I can find a 300 calorie meal. Fuck. I HATE restaurants.
