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Laughing Matters: Just keep things all in scale
by Sharon May
Feb 11, 2010 | 876 views | 0 0 comments | 9 9 recommendations | email to a friend | print
There’s a good reason why front doors have locks. They keep people from walking in and catching us doing idiotic things. Like weighing your head.

It all started during a phone conversation with a friend in California, who confessed to currently carrying 200 pounds on her 5-foot-10-inch frame.

Somehow, that made me want to figure out how much I weigh per inch of my 5-foot-3 height, excluding my head, figuring there’s not much I can do to lose weight in my head, except have my teeth pulled. So I decided to weigh my head and subtract the number of pounds before computing my weight per inch.

I scooted my scale to the middle of my bedroom and lay down with my head on the scale, reveling in my cleverness. After letting my head lie like road kill on the scale, I quickly sat up and peered at the digital readout: zero! I’m famously pinheaded, but ZERO?

I tried the process again, and that’s when I heard footsteps approaching. A friend peeked around the corner.

“What on earth are you doing!" she exclaimed.

I sprang up from the floor – if rolling over on all fours and using the bed frame to haul myself up can be called “springy.”

“I knocked but you didn’t answer,” she said, narrowing her eyes at the dust clumps clinging to my hair. “Is someone here?” she smirked.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” I replied and explained the intricate scientific study she was interrupting.

“You’re weird” was her only contribution to my investigation.

In retrospect, I could have used Google, but I wanted to know the precise weight of my particular head. So I did the only thing left to do: Seek a scale specifically used to weigh melons. That meant a trip to the grocery store, of course.

“You’re on your own,” my friend said, rolling her eyes.

At the grocery store, I cased the produce scales, waiting until the aisle was clear. I crept to a swinging scale and crammed my head inside.

I learned three important lessons. One, it’s difficult to relax your neck muscles when your head is wedged in a produce scale. Two, it’s impossible to read the scale at the same time your head is inside. And three, some grocery store managers obviously have no respect for scientific research.

Somebody must have alerted the store manager about encountering a human head in one of his produce scales.

“What on earth are you doing!” he demanded.

I jumped in surprise. In my struggle to extricate my skull from the metal tub, the contraption ripped the hair from my temples. Reeling in pain, I backed into a pyramid of oranges and sent them rolling across the floor.

Mortified, I mumbled an apology and backed my way through the oranges to the door.

I never was able to calculate my headless weight per inch, but science can take us only so far. That’s where faith takes over. And I believe with all my heart my temples look better with hair.

I also believe I’ll start locking my front door when I’m home.

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