There is GOOD news about my new weight scale.
Santa doesn’t want me to be fat, so he brought me a new weight scale for Christmas. Every morning I remind myself how much Santa loves me by checking out my weight. My poundage has been decreasing in small increments since the New Year began.
My new weight scale is epic because it has bells and whistles. It totally calculates your body fat, water mass, bone mass, muscle mass… all that junk. ooo-la-la, quite the fancy-pants gift, yes?
There is BAD news about my new weight scale.
Santa doesn’t want me to be fat, so he brought me a new weight scale for Christmas.
((( Santa is a fat bastard and therefore this act of cruelty makes him a fat hypocrite. )))
Every morning I remind myself how much Santa loves me by checking out my weight.
((( “LOVE”. Bwahaha! Yeah, that Santa. He is totally loving me. I’ma punch that fat fucker in the wiener if he crosses my path between now and Christmas next. )))
My poundage has been decreasing in small increments since the New Year began.
((( Let us not forget that, for anyone with half a bit of sense, the New Year only began January 7, since that’s the first Monday of 2013. So we’re really only talking five days. Which means this could totally be some of that fluctuating water weight shit. )))
This new weight scale is epic because it has bells and whistles.
((( “Bells and whistles” on electronic items actually means “500-krillion pages of unreadable instructions of a how-to user’s manual written in Korean.” And it also actually means “When the battery dies, you will die with it,” the essence of which translates to, “This shit is way more complicated than necessary, hahaha, GOTCHA.” )))
It totally calculates your body fat, water mass, bone mass, muscle mass… all that junk.
((( Turns out, unless I add 4 inches to my height, my new weight scale responds with an “error” message because apparently I’m too short to have this much fat. I mean, WT-flying-F? You’re telling me this piece of shit electronic asshole has never before come across a woman who is only 5’3” and needs to lose 50 pounds? I call BULLSHIT. )))
ooo-la-la, quite the fancy-pants gift, yes?
((( I’m not using all the fucking bells and whistles because they are hurtful and mean. So this gift is stupid and I hate it. And also? FUCK. That’s what. )))
There is FUNNY news about my new weight scale.
1. It’s made of glass. As in, “Here, fat fuckers. Stand on this to weigh yourselves. But WATCH IT! Because it’s made of glass. So, you know, try not to be fat while you’re standing on it.”
2. In order to receive the extra information about your fatness, you’re expected to step on these metal strips that apparently send mild electric shocks coursing through your body. Seriously, I’m not making this up. The instructions are clear on two points:
(a) The bottoms of your feet should be damp so as to better conduct the electricity that zaps your fat counters.
(b) DO NOT step on that shit if you have some kind of pace maker or any other electrical junk that keeps you, like, living.
Remember just then when I said “There is FUNNY news about my new weight scale”?
I meant to say “terrifying”, not “funny.” My bad. It’s probably the fear of my new weight scale that has made me drop two pounds this week, not the fact that I have been going on two-mile walks or cutting back on the Doritos.