I am quite proud of the fact that I worked out every day this past weekend. Yesterday, Sunday, I was onthe way to the shower, shampoo in hand when I heard someone step on the scale at the end of the row of lockers. These scales are the old metal, clanking scary ones. The ones that aren’t terribly accurate only because no one wants to take the time to gently tap tap tap the slider ever so subtly to the right hash mark. The kind that everyone knows when you get on one because unless you already know what your weight is and have it set for it the thing will whomp down and clatter around. Besides if you already know what your weight is to begin with, why are you getting on a scale?
Anyway, I heard the ever familiar tapping and then she spoke: “You have got to be kidding me!” I
couldn’t help but smile. I almost called out “I’ve said the same thing to that scale before.” It’s true, too. Although, my exclamation was more like “seriously?” I kept my mouth shut and meandered on to the shower.
As I lathered my hair I wondered, how many women have such similar conversations with their scales? How many women deliberately weigh themselves first thing in the morning, before coffee and bagel, after having gone to the bathroom, two-leg nakey just to step on the digital scale and say “Oh, COME ON!!” How far off are our expectations of our scales? What are we expecting it to show us? That even though you haven’t been dieting and only made it to a half a PiYo class you somehow managed to lose 12 pounds? In a week? We may be making our scales the scapegoats here.
It is the scale’s fault that I ate that entire chocolate…cake. You ate an entire chocolate cake? Your scale should have also pointed and laughed at you. Have some self-control, woman!
However, I have also had similar exchanges with a scale. My own, for example, I do not trust. It simply is not right. That’s why I have appointed my mother’s scale to be my official weight taker. My scale just makes me hate it more everyday. It’s wrong. How many of us, after weighing, just scoff as if to say that the scale simply doesn’t know what it’s talking about. Pssssh, call yourself a digital scale? Lying bastard.
But I was at my mother’s yesterday after the overheard scale conversation and decided to weigh myself.
Anyway, I heard the ever familiar tapping and then she spoke: “You have got to be kidding me!” I
couldn’t help but smile. I almost called out “I’ve said the same thing to that scale before.” It’s true, too. Although, my exclamation was more like “seriously?” I kept my mouth shut and meandered on to the shower.
As I lathered my hair I wondered, how many women have such similar conversations with their scales? How many women deliberately weigh themselves first thing in the morning, before coffee and bagel, after having gone to the bathroom, two-leg nakey just to step on the digital scale and say “Oh, COME ON!!” How far off are our expectations of our scales? What are we expecting it to show us? That even though you haven’t been dieting and only made it to a half a PiYo class you somehow managed to lose 12 pounds? In a week? We may be making our scales the scapegoats here.
It is the scale’s fault that I ate that entire chocolate…cake. You ate an entire chocolate cake? Your scale should have also pointed and laughed at you. Have some self-control, woman!
However, I have also had similar exchanges with a scale. My own, for example, I do not trust. It simply is not right. That’s why I have appointed my mother’s scale to be my official weight taker. My scale just makes me hate it more everyday. It’s wrong. How many of us, after weighing, just scoff as if to say that the scale simply doesn’t know what it’s talking about. Pssssh, call yourself a digital scale? Lying bastard.
But I was at my mother’s yesterday after the overheard scale conversation and decided to weigh myself.
And what I got was this:
All right, scale. You live another day.
Three pounds lost in 10 days.
**This was written several days ago, so there's no telling what I may have lost and/or gained in the meantime.
