As with anyone who has attained my age, I have accumulated several nemesis along the way. I think my earliest foe was a girl named Rhonda in 6th grade. That was followed by Algebra in 10th grade, Biology my freshman year in college, and Astronomy my sophomore year. I shudder with just the thought of cell structure or the Andromeda Galaxy, But, I digress. And I'll spare you my entire list of antagonists.
However, the most evil enemy I have encountered over the years is my bathroom scale. The status of my day is made or ruined by this small flat electronic device. I learned years ago that the only way (no pun intended) to control my weight is to subject myself to this device of torture. I have an acceptable range of weight that I need to stay within. A bit over the range tells me that I need to "seriously watch" what I eat that day. Within the range means I just need to "watch" what I eat. If the God of the Scales blesses me with a number below my range then I am free to eat without worrying so much. But reckless abandonment is never on the table. That joy ended many years ago.
Coming in at a close second to the evil scales is my clothes. I despise tight clothes. Not only are they unsightly and uncomfortable, they are an undeniable sign that my weight is edging up. Since I refuse to buy larger clothes, the tight material around my thighs and weight is a constant reminder that portions need to be decreased and sweets eliminated.
So I live in a constant tug of war with my weight and size. Each year nature makes this a miserable tussle, one I lose more than win. So while most people would chose unlimited money if granted a wish from the genie, I would choose the ability to eat with reckless abandon, needless to say, followed by the a second wish for the monetary resources.
If nothing else, I could purchase a kinder set of bathroom scales that would not torture me each morning. And to think some people fear speaking in public or crossing a street.