The first way to simplify the measurement of one's Dignity is to take it out of the hands of external circumstance and influence.

"My Dignity is mine alone, and only my internal Goddess can judge me."

But how then do I measure Dignity inside the vacuum of self? What do I measure against if there is no who except me to measure against?

What about those days where my Dignity has been trampled by my own impulsive, amoral, thoughtless, revolting actions/behaviors/thoughts and my internal Goddess is judging the fuck out of me?

Being able to measure Dignity means there is something to measure—that it’s not just a binary of All Dignity or No Dignity but that Dignity exists on a sliding scale with gradations between the extremes.

I imagine my gas tank of Dignity sits somewhere to the back-left of my brain and, based on how I’m feeling about myself that day, the tank depletes and refills. 

A Dignity gauge is displayed on my mental dashboard. A caricature of my face is taped firmly to the needle, so that when the tank is full my head is held high, and as the tank drains my head hangs lower and lower.

But where is that fuel coming from or going to?

This question of Dignity reminds me of the cyclical nature of unconfidence: being unconfident takes the inverted confidence that I lack confidence.

It’s as if my confidence is a frame of static size that can be slid around to change the picture I see about myself. 

It seems my brain actually has a yin-yang of two storage containers for confidence a confidence tank and an unconfidence tank and the fuel stays a constant volume as it flows between the changing perspectives. My internal dashboard is only sophisticated enough to track the confidence tank, though.

Dignity can be thought of in a similar way: no Dignity and total Dignity take the same amount of work for the self to embody because some fractured part of me has the Dignity to de-Dignify another part of me.  

What I'm doing is subconsciously creating my own room of who’s to measure against, surrounding myself with all these versions of me who have the same capacity but their fuel leveled differently.

But it's not just a room I'm making, it's a line-up of the lowest-hung-head me’s to the highest-held-head me’s. 

It's a spectrum arced across the tick marks of my Dignity fuel gauge, and each of those gradations of me wears a different hue of Dignity glasses that colors how it sees itself against all of the others.

And I too stand against the wall with my own pair of kaleidoscopic shades on, judging and waiting to be judged by the array of internal Goddesses. 

So how is Dignity measured?

The same way a rainbow is.

In all the colors of the day that made it.