Scales are for Fishies

A month ago I found the scale my father told me he threw away. I was so mad and of course my father didn't see the big deal. Finding the scale was a big trigger for me and my dad put the scale somewhere else so I went out and bought my own. Which I kept hidden in my car, after two weeks I told Jamie about it, she told me I could give the scale to her but I couldn't I NEEDED the scale, especially when every time I stepped on it the number went down. 

But then it stopped being good, I couldn't keep the scale in my house so I kept it in my car and would weigh myself in the parking lot of whatever location I was at. And that's completely normal, isn't it?

Then I saw this thing online where somebody smashed their scale and who doesn't love smashing things?! So I asked Jamie if we could do it and this was her response:

So last week, that's exactly what we did. We smashed the scale to pieces, with a sledgehammer. It was fun and exciting and liberating. 

Though, right now I'm struggling. I want to run out and buy a brand new scale so I can watch the number go down, down, down until it gets to that perfect number. So I just keep telling myself I don't need it and the only thing that actually needs scales are fish.

PS I put bows on our safety goggles (safety doesn't have to be ugly)