I used to keep the scale in the closet.

Inspirational post keep reminding me that I am more than the number staring back.

I ask, more what?

Inspirational posts are reiterating their messages of body positivity and healthfulness.

The number stares back.

 

I used to keep the scale in the closet.

Feminist blogs keep reminding me that my body is for me.

I question, how can I be more confident?

Feminists blogs are shouting the atrocities of body policing and fat shaming.

The number stares back.

 

I used to keep the scale in the closet.

OCD tendencies keep reminding me that control and discipline are at risk.

I think, what else can I control?

OCD tendencies are commanding their claim for necessity with the sensational appeal of order and calm.

The number stares back.

 

I used to keep the scale in the closet.

Today, my white scale, fixed, centered on the cold, wooden floor, keeps reminding me of the dissonance I’m experiencing around self-destruction and self-worth.

I demand of myself, what have I done?

My scale is engulfing me when it screams, “it will never be enough”!

The number stares back.