Wednesday, July 5, 2000

2:10 a.m. See that picture over there? The big brown bear on a chair? That's how I feel. Beware.

He's sitting in front of a chocolate candy store, a place that holds no allure for me. The letter "A" in the window means that the back room, where they ostensibly make the candy, is clean as a whistle. But I really don't like chocolate, so what's it matter?

At the first party we went to yesterday, I had to slip away, as is often the case, and use the bathroom. I don't snoop in the medicine cabinet or read the books and magazines scattered about, or even muss the shell soap or the papery ironed hand cloths.

But this bathroom had a dandy new electronic scale and I haven't been on a scale in maybe ten years because I don't believe in the things, but this time I looked down and thought something along the lines of "What's the harm," and let me tell you -- there's harm.

I won't tell you the number that flashed before my eyes. I will never ever tell anyone the number, but I will tell you that it didn't line up with the rationalized vision I have of myself. It's a number. Purportedly non-prevaricating. But there's no way to rationalize it and the idea of me.

Could the scale have been faulty?

That's logical.

I watched a lot of TV tonight -- almost three hours. TV has ceased to amuse, until Survivor ... and then tonight I watched the premier of Big Brother, totally sucked in ... and then I watched the Darva segment on 48 Hours to round out my real people marathon. Unfortunately, my computer isn't set up, so far, for streaming video or I'd be watching the ten folks marooned in the TV house right this minute, if I could.

It's not a huge stretch to think that a person who writes about her life everyday on the World Wide Web would find watching people so interesting. If you've been raised in a strict, rule-driven culture, it's fascinating to see how other people act out the same 24 that you struggling with daily. In another's life, we can find our own way.

What choices to they make? How's their self-esteem? Are human beings born decent, or do we have to learn how to pretend we are? How do thin people comfort themselves, if not by gobbling goodies? These are my questions.

There are no final answers.

And because we're each inventing this reality as we muddle along, day by day, it's important sometimes to follow people into the bathroom and look over their shoulder as they step on the scale.

But I'm not going to tell you the number. Some things have to remain private.