This day has finally come.
I've always wanted to find out, but I've been so afraid to find out the truth. But this can't go on forever.
I approached him hesitantly, still having doubts, fear dragging my feet.
"Come on, girl. Pluck up your courage, and step up to the plate! It's your turn to swing the bat!"
For some unknown reason all these baseball analogies kept coming into my head, even though I'm neither a fan nor a player. Anyway, let's put that aside for now.
*Puts it aside.*
And so, I decided to step up to the plate. I swallowed hard, and tried to remain calm as he approached closer. I could hear my heart pounding a staccato tempo in my ears and rapidly speeding up, blood rushing like the Niagara Falls. He kept on moving closer. I squeezed my eyes shut, anxiety and apprehension doing funny things to my stomach. Somewhere in my fogged-up brain, I was screaming: "Stop! Don't move anymore! Just stop right there! I can't stand this any more! If you move any closer, I'd..."
My thoughts screeched to a halt as he stopped. I opened my eyes, and peeked. He finally stopped. Did he hear my inner thoughts? Am I actually telepathic?
Nope. He just stopped because he's reached it. He's reached that number, that horrible number which determines my weight. I took a quick look at the number, cringed, took another look, then stepped off the bathroom scales.
Looks like I'm not going to be able to have any Ben and Jerry's for a while. Sigh.
Now I know why my housemate kept saying that if I buy a bathroom scale, she'll destroy it on sight. They are women's sworn enemy.
I've always wanted to find out, but I've been so afraid to find out the truth. But this can't go on forever.
I approached him hesitantly, still having doubts, fear dragging my feet.
"Come on, girl. Pluck up your courage, and step up to the plate! It's your turn to swing the bat!"
For some unknown reason all these baseball analogies kept coming into my head, even though I'm neither a fan nor a player. Anyway, let's put that aside for now.
*Puts it aside.*
And so, I decided to step up to the plate. I swallowed hard, and tried to remain calm as he approached closer. I could hear my heart pounding a staccato tempo in my ears and rapidly speeding up, blood rushing like the Niagara Falls. He kept on moving closer. I squeezed my eyes shut, anxiety and apprehension doing funny things to my stomach. Somewhere in my fogged-up brain, I was screaming: "Stop! Don't move anymore! Just stop right there! I can't stand this any more! If you move any closer, I'd..."
My thoughts screeched to a halt as he stopped. I opened my eyes, and peeked. He finally stopped. Did he hear my inner thoughts? Am I actually telepathic?
Nope. He just stopped because he's reached it. He's reached that number, that horrible number which determines my weight. I took a quick look at the number, cringed, took another look, then stepped off the bathroom scales.
Looks like I'm not going to be able to have any Ben and Jerry's for a while. Sigh.
Now I know why my housemate kept saying that if I buy a bathroom scale, she'll destroy it on sight. They are women's sworn enemy.
No comments:
Post a Comment