Remember those weighing machines we all had and we called them scales and they lay under the cupboard or in the bathroom and were dented and rusty and the window was blurred and you had to peer to see if you had shed or gained weight. It was made for cheating and there was this knob in the middle that you could twirl to a couple of kilos below zero and it was a good feeling when the ultimate number showed. Also you could fudge the result by standing lightly on one foot and that imbalance messed with the figures often to one’s advantage. See I have lost 2 kg. The scales were also used to weigh luggage when someone was travelling like, is it more than 30 kilos? Math time, your weight minus the suitcase, never mind if you get a hernia pulling it up.
It has all changed. My daughter has a system against a wall that not only looks like a NASA control room but is so advanced digital there is no chance of cheating. Then it tells you your BMI and your pulse rate and your oxygen flow and your sugar, I don’t want a doctor’s visit, I just want to see my weight.
Not so long ago we could put in a rupee coin in those arcade type machines and get our fortune told for free. You will meet a pretty girl today. Yeah sure. You are up for a promotion … if I had a job. Any shopping mart had a couple of pavement entrepreneurs with a scale and for 50 paise you figured how successfully your diet was going. Now the system spews out a whole receipt confirming that if you were a horse they would have shot you and put you out of your misery. Your BMI is obese. That is a morale booster.
The other day we went to a mall and there was this outlet with a wall dedicated to newfangled weighing models and I stood on one that was on sale and next thing I knew it was announcing my weight to the world in one of those Alexa type voices: You are 89 kg that is 6 kg overweight for your height, and I am saying ssshshhh and I have pressed some button so now it is on an auto loop. It is repeating the litany and shoppers are grinning evilly and I am not even standing on the thing but it won’t stop sharing confidences.
Finally an attendant comes and shuts it and says most superfluously you had pressed the Repeat button. Give me my old-fashioned non-digital non-programmed non-BMI scales any day. At least I could cheat on them.
This article is intended to bring a smile to your face. Any connection to events and characters in real life is coincidental.
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