The closet door opens and I nudge the button with a toe.  The digital lights flash red, like a light at an intersection.  It greets me and I bow, the duel at dawn has begun.  

Ok, I confess I was the first to back down.  I’m sick of the constant reminder of all that has yet to be done, so I pitched the damned thing in the trash.  Who wants to feel depressed every morning?  It’s a like an impossibly high bar that I’ll never successfully vault!  To hell with the parade of failures in the morning; I’ve got better things to do with my time….

…..Like actually getting out of house and taking a walk!  Instead of being locked in mortal combat with my nemesis and despairing over the inevitable outcome, I’ve decided to empower myself and go on a strict diet.  From now on, I will avoid eating misery and snacking on self-reproach.  I will rise each morning and walk to the closet and find my walking shoes in place of the scale.  

Can I wean myself off of the addiction to self-loathing?  I already feel separation anxiety, wondering if the scale is lonely in the dumpster, wondering if happiness is a sufficient substitute for frustration, wondering how I’ll cope with those late night cravings for self-flagellation.  As long as I had Mr. Scale in the closet, I knew who I was.

What kind of person will I be without his company?  Breaking up with someone is hard.  Will I like the New and Improved Me?  I don’t know.  I’ll tell you in the morning.


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