Just a casual shitlady in Italy This is not a terribly complex or exciting story, but as it has considerably improved my mood this evening, I thought I'd share it with you fellow shitpeople. I am an American currently living in Italy, and while I've been pleasantly surprised by the comparatively lower ratio of hams to humans here in lovely Italy, the few butter barges that are here stand out as being even more pathetic than usual (if such a thing is possible). At the grocery store today, I was picking up a few items for my apartment, having just recently moved in. Laundry detergent, some Tupperware (for delicious lunch salads!) and gasp a scale. (Backstory, recovered anorexic here. I'm always a little obsessive these days about monitoring to make sure my weight doesn't drop below the healthy levels. I try to stay right around 18-19 BMI.)  The beast running the check-out couldn't have been older than I am (under 20) but weighed easily twice what I do, and probably more. The resentment in her eyes was tangible as I placed the scale on the check-out counter, right next to my veggies and the small container of hazelnut gelato I was bringing home to share with my roommate and friends. She shook her head and said (this is a translation): "Ugh, you don't need to buy one of these--they're just depressing. And you could stand to gain weight anyways." I just smiled, knowing that, for her, the ice cream and the scale were completely at odds, as without self-control, moderation is a distant fairytale. As I took my bag I replied: "You're right, I probably could. But I don't need to gain nearly as many as you need to lose." And then walked out.