Who Cares

It takes years before we became aware of what we did have, instead of obsessing about what we didn't. Better still, we'd have better life by not caring at all.

Our team was introduced a cutting-edge machine that is supposed to measure our body composition yesterday.

It goes like this: A current passes through your body and, within a matter of two minutes, the device will tell you much more information than the number of inches around the waist. Enter the details like your age, body weight and body height. Voilà! Amount of fat, lean tissue and water content inside your body will be quickly displayed on the screen, based upon the technique bioimpedance, whatever that meant. Don't feel bad. The worst is coming; the next screen will tell you how many extra pounds of body fat you're carrying.

Not surprisingly, I was being asked to be the guinea pig in order to test the accuracy of that device. "Is there a problem, KM, for you to try the measurement?"

"Not at all," I assured my boss. And, of course, I am not the type of guy who would care. I don't care a whit what I have, to say nothing of what I don't have. The trouble is, I said to myself, I don't even know my body weight and body height, which are supposed to be entered into the device for computation purpose.

I ended up making up the numbers of my body weight and body height. Who cares? And then, who knows?