Of course the pubescent lobe of my mind thinks of various body parts that could be equally weighted, and that brings the following nursery rhyme to mind:
Dame Equiponderance rides into town
In a cart drawn by two sleek, white horses.
And the cobblestone streets make her bounce up and down.
See those two equiponderant forces?
I may have to demote my declaration of love for that fine lass to a fleeting crush. A fling, maybe. She never calls. Well, that’s not true. She returns calls if I call first. But that’s not enough for me.
So, let this fling last while it may. There’s equiponderant and there’s preponderant; there ought to be a postponderant as well. Maybe a heavily weighted afterthought. Postponderance, a sort of mot d’escalier, trepwort (if I understand the French and the Yiddish). In English, we say, “If only I’d said.” That thought would be postponderant.
And, finally, since my mind is already stuck on things being equal:
“All things being equal, …”
Gives voice to a small-minded thought.
You know that in its sequel
The speaker claims skills he’s not got.