Monday, December 3, 2012

It's my number--by Brooke W.

I am endlessly grateful that I am healthy enough to donate plasma when I have the time.  On top of feeling like a productive member of society, giving plasma is a calm, easy hour out of my day when I do homework or read.

There is one part of the screening process that I don't like.  First thing that happens when I walk into the screening booth is I give my full name and my social security number.  I can deal with that.

Then comes the scary part.  "Step on the scale, please."

I don't keep a scale at home because it is so easy to become obsessed with weight.  That one three-digit number can haunt me.  A number that seems so much higher than I have been told it should be.

Who decided weight was a good indicator of attractiveness?  I never felt very attractive standing on a scale.  I don't recall meeting too many people who felt healthy or happy while standing on a scale.  Some days I peek at the number.  Other days I focus on other things in the booth so I don't see it.  But really, it's just a number.  

I don't want that number to have power over me.  I'm not ashamed of my number.  I feel healthy, and after all, it's a number.

170 is just a number.  It can be divided by 1, 2, 5, 10, 17, 34, 85, and 170.  It is the maximum check-out possible in a standard game of darts.  The roman numeral is CLXX and its binary representation is 10101010.  It is an even number.

It is my number, it fluctuate, and I'm not going to be embarrassed by it any more.

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