This is my bathroom scale. As you can see, there are no numbers on it because I cannot stand on it and take a picture of it at the same time….No, really, I cannot. It is mentally impossible.
I like to refer to my scale affectionately as Bob or Son of a Bitch (sorry, mom)…it really depends on the day.
There are some things you should know about Bob. Bob has a lot of influence in my life. He can really make or break my morning until I forget his supportive or hurtful remarks. He also is quite controlling dictating in no uncertain terms what I should eat and how much of it I should consume. You would think it important break off a relationship like this, but unfortunately, society keeps telling me that it is healthier for me to be in a good relationship with Bob than out of it. Bob has a lot of power.
Sometimes, I break free of Bob and rebelliously consume cheesecake or homemade chocolate chip cookies, but I can hardly think of myself as courageous as I avoid Bob for a few days until things have settled down. If I am lucky and show appropriate remorse, he will have forgotten about my transgression and welcome me back with open arms.
There are a few tips and tricks I’ve learned to get Bob to be kinder to me such as being positioned well on our slightly uneven floor and by not consuming water for about 8 hours before I visit Bob. Fiber is also another key ingredient to a peaceful existence with Bob. You think that this is a lot of trouble to go to for Bob’s approval, but you don’t know the mind games Bob plays. I see his influence on magazine covers and television. It appears I’m not the only one under Bob’s spell.
In thinking about my relationship with Bob, it’s one of co-dependency. He needs my batteries, and I need his love. I’m looking forward to the day I figure out how I can live without Bob and end this toxic relationship.
That said, I’m in my 40s (if I haven’t said that already) and am hardly shooting for a super model career. Nope, my goal is much lower…perhaps a little less muffin to my top, to keep my feet in view and have my current wardrobe fit a little less snugly.
One day though, Bob, I’m going to break free, and your hold on me will end. My only hope is that it ends not just for me, but for all of you held hostage by Bob’s opinion.