Rise of the Machines

One Saturday morning,  I was out on my daily speed-walk when I ran into a sign. 

‘Check your BMI’ it read, with an arrow pointing at a nearby hospital. My BMI was the least of my interests. I was a healthy young woman, with a tiny tummy bump. Apart from the tummy, my body was perfect for me. I was curious about my height though: was I a 5”4 or a 5”6? Could I aspire to be a super-model or was I destined to a life of the quaint-sized who kept bothering the 6-foot plus at supermarkets? So, at the end of my 45-minute lap, I bounded into the hospital

72. Seventy-two fucking kilograms.

That was what the scale read. Frankly, I thought the nurse was running a racket. She would get me invested and obsessed with this fake weight. I would then keep coming back to check if I had lost a kilogram here or there. She would prey on my insecurities, make me a regular visitor. Not on my watch! I went back home and plopped on the bathroom scale. It read Seventy-Two as well. Reality slowly dawned on me and I realized it was much worse than I feared.

Yes, I see you snickering but, I see it now. The online persona of both scales interacting on a social networking site… scalebook? Instaweight?

Bathroom scale: Did anyone check some girl’s weight in the past hour? This girl, that hasn’t touched me in a year, just plopped herself on me with the anger of a mad turkey.

Hospital scale: Oh yeah… I told her that her weight was 72kg… you should have seen the look on her face dude! Hilarious!

Bathroom scale: You know what would be a sick prank? I'll tell her that's her weight here too!

Come on, we’ve all seen the movies about the rise of machines; this situation cannot be far-fetched. Even my jeans and skirts are getting snugger, and I just know my dryer is in on it too? It's so easy. Added heat to increase shrinkage?! Case closed!

What if the machines have decided that driving us quietly insane is a better strategy than rising against us? I see you sneering and muttering that I better do some push-ups and cut out my carbs. But hear me out, Because today… today, they tell you you’re 5 kg over your assumed weight, and tomorrow? Tomorrow they make you elect a clown for a president.