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You ever notice how when you gain weight, it's always when you're trying to make a significant life decision? It's like my body's saying, "Why choose a direction in life when you can expand in all directions?" I mean, I was contemplating joining a gym, and my belly was like, "Nah, let's join a buffet instead." And don’t even get me started on shopping for clothes during this phase. Every time I tried something on, I felt like I was playing Russian roulette with buttons.
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Ever feel like scales are the most untrustworthy devices out there? I mean, they're the only machines that make you question your relationship with gravity every single time. You stand there, trying to look nonchalant, as if you didn’t just eat a whole pizza, and then the numbers flash like a disapproving parent. I think scales are secretly made by diet companies. They're in cahoots! It's like every time I step on one, it whispers, "You know, there's a new fad diet you should try!" Yeah, thanks, but I’d rather have a scale that's on a permanent vacation.
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You know, I stepped on the scale the other day, and it didn't just tell me my weight; it gave me a full life evaluation. It's like, "Congratulations! You're carrying a newborn elephant!" I mean, is there a special alarm that goes off somewhere when the numbers hit a certain threshold? Because I swear, my scale's last words were, "Help! Get off! Take a break!" I didn’t know whether to thank it for the wake-up call or send it to therapy for being too honest.
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People say that weight doesn't define you, but sometimes I feel like it's trying to write my biography. Like, if someone asks, "How's your day?" My fat cells chime in, "Oh, we're writing a chapter on 'Why the Stairs Feel Like Everest Today.'" It's as if I’m in this perpetual battle with gravity, and gravity's winning. I mean, I’m not saying I’m heavy, but if I tried skydiving, I'd probably just end up making a new crater on Earth.
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