A lot of fat people feel terrorized by the scale.

I can absolutely respect this.

Fat people are subject to all kinds of abuse and discrimination simply because of the number on a scale.

Sometimes that abuse comes from others, sometimes from within.

I don’t let the scale rule my life, but I do weigh myself from time to time.

Just to check in on what my body is doing.

This morning I decided I wanted to weigh myself.

I put the scale down (it lives tucked away next to my bathroom vanity).

And I put one toe on it, to wake it up, as is my custom.

Nothing.

I try again, one toe, a little harder this time.

Nothing.

I put a whole old fat lady foot on the scale.

Nothing.

I stomp on the fucking thing.

Nothing.

I stand on it and “jump” (at fat old ladies do not catch a lot of air) on it.

Nothing.

Clearly, the batteries are dead.

But all I can hear in my head is:

“Ding, dong the witch is dead …”

I know I didn’t, but I still feel like the great and terrible

SCALE KILLER!