04-29-2017, 04:13 AM
Don’t be a Conversion Table
My medical records recite my weight
in December to have been 103 kilograms.
I recall in high school competing briefly
in the 103 pound class. Do the math?
Bullshit, don’t ever do the math.
The results are too . . . inescapable, too . . .
encapsulating. No fuzz left, no damn
ambiguity left at play, no welcome gray
amid the black, or black amid the gray
as the case may be, and I see clearly now
that over the years I converted pounds
to kilograms – my life’s work, apparently
a converter – and that’s a fact. Tomorrow’s
question - is it easier to quit cigarettes
or apple fritters? [Spoiler alert- do the math].
My medical records recite my weight
in December to have been 103 kilograms.
I recall in high school competing briefly
in the 103 pound class. Do the math?
Bullshit, don’t ever do the math.
The results are too . . . inescapable, too . . .
encapsulating. No fuzz left, no damn
ambiguity left at play, no welcome gray
amid the black, or black amid the gray
as the case may be, and I see clearly now
that over the years I converted pounds
to kilograms – my life’s work, apparently
a converter – and that’s a fact. Tomorrow’s
question - is it easier to quit cigarettes
or apple fritters? [Spoiler alert- do the math].