Tomorrow, my compatriots and I will step on a scale that will display a number that would determine whether I live or perish!! Ok no, not really. But it is indeed the weigh in. We're not supposed to eat or drink ANYthing for 2 hours prior to the gym; which is where the "scale of doom" awaits...
It is not your average scale. No, sir. This device prompts you to stand shoulder width apart, clutching what seems to be two Nintendo Wii-like baton's and remaining perfectly and utterly still while judgemental beeps are emitted from that confounded contraption.
They start out slow, and then gain momentum... till they finally stop. And all the while it's like they're saying, "You" *beep* "big" *beep* "fat" *beep* "tub" *beep* "of" *beep* "LARD!" *beep beep beep beep*.
Those few seconds feel like an eternity!
Those few seconds feel like an eternity!
Then...a paper is printed. Yes, the shame! It's on the record! Everything! Your...weight. Your...fat count. Some other fancy calculations like, Skeletal Muscle Mass, Body Balance, Upper body to Lower body proportion, tout! And as if that's not all, it even gives you a chart mapping out your life pattern. It goes, Normal, Alert, Risky..and God forbid, Very Risky.
When I started, I was at Risky. That's a darn shame cuz I'm only 21. That means that if I continue with my lifestyle, (hello epicure of the world!) and without exercise (sloth to end all slothfulness), I'll be a (big, horrendous, dumb, inconsiderate) fool!
So I hope that I live though tomorrow to write a more concise update on my gymnastic endeavor.
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