51st Post!

I am a sick person. I must be. I apparently like to torture myself. I can't help it. I don't see the point of owning something that just causes severe depression every single time it's used-yet, I do. It's right here on the floor next to me, in fact. It's a tool of the devil. A. Tool. Of. The. Devil. Sent here to destroy me, and any/all positive feelings I may have about myself. Why is it in my house? Why?!?

The following is a close version of what just happened a few minutes ago.



For some unknown reason, I thought it would be a good idea to weigh myself. This is what it said.....(give or take an ounce or 2.......)





After deciding that the scale had to be wrong, I got off and got back on.......











YAY!!!







Then, I realized what it actually said, and I had gone down mere ounces instead of a few hundred pounds.



Sad me.

(This format was somewhat borrowed by the fantastic blog Hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com. If you haven't heard of it, it's a must read. Sometimes pictures just tell do much more than words can....)