The first goal to any successful weight gain is figuring out what I am dealing with, and that is the starting weight. I pull out my crusty scale, hidden unused under the bathroom sink, and place it on the floor. It’s a small pink one decorated in flowers, designed for little girls. The ones for adults don’t go below fifty. Someday I will upgrade to the big-girl scale.
I strip down to nothing, as naked as the day I was born, and take a step onto the scale. The number shifts around, making me nervous, since never once do I see fifty, nor do I see anything higher. It fixes itself on forty-seven. The number 13 or 666 bodes an ominous warning for many people, for me anything closer to forty-five than fifty is horrifying. I pull back, revolted by what I see. There is no way it is that low.
I p
