weight--(they don't love you like i love you)

I was trained never to ask a lady this question, but I'm going to tell you anyway.

Ever since I was, like, three, I have weighed 128 pounds. Sometimes it fluctuates a few pounds up or down depending on the time of the month, the time of day, a gigantic meal I've just eaten, a long spell without food, a seven mile run (haah! like I would ever run seven consecutive miles, you fool), if I'm holding a fat cat, or if I've got someone on my shoulders--but in general it's very difficult to tip the scale in either direction past a very solid, consistent, 128.

I am not complaining. 128 is a good number. I can live my entire life at 128 and that would be fine. I expect that if and when I am ever pregnant, I'll *still* weigh 128 for the duration of the term.

So I was perturbed when the scales (two *seperate* scales, I should mention) recently registered a whole 10 POUNDS over the expected ticky mark and decided to take drastic measures--ie. cutting out the Taco Bell lunchbreaks (sniff: goodbye, three taco special) and the Late Night Pie sessions.

Yesterday, in order to track this goal, I bought a scale for the first time in my life. I set it to zero, got naked, and stepped carefully onto the offending white plastic.

128.

wtf?

Lana has says that I have the most healthy relationship with food of anyone she knows. The truth is that I do not understand food, nor do I attempt to do so, since obviously my body weight is governed by aliens and not by calories.