My new scale is NOT my friend; she sits in my bathroom as if she is the Queen of Sheba, watching my every move. Sometime I think I see her sneer at me as I step out the shower. She sits, smug and sure of herself. She just knows I have gained weight and cannot wait to exclaim my abundance to the world. (Yes, I got a talking scale for my birthday and I was insane enough to keep it)
One tap of my foot and she cheerfully chirps, “Hello.” Within the next few seconds she chirps “Ready.” I swear she snickers after she says it. Once I am on the scale she calculates my weight, to 1/10 of a pound, and announces the result in a very clear, loud voice. There is no way to turn her off or turn her down.
The First time I responded to her she gleefully announced that I weighed 210 pounds. The next few days were the same. That is when I noticed a seeming lilt to her voice. I was if she got such pleasure when I did not lose any weight and when I gained; she seemed to sing the poundage out in an almost operatic manner.
I decided to silence her. I refused to weigh every day.
I have started taking notice of how my clothes fit. I made a special trip to Good Will and bought a pair of jeans, a pair of Capri’s and a pair of shorts, all one size smaller than what I wear. Each one is cut different, but success in wearing all them will denote a notable degrease in the pounds I am lugging around for free. I call them my 21’s and I intend to weigh myself every 21 days.
My scale sat unattended for weeks, (I hoped she had lost her voice). On Tuesday, I weighed for the first time in two weeks and when she announced 200 pounds, she did so with a sniffle. 10 pounds since May 16, I did a Cha Cha out of the bathroom and an Electric Slide into my Kitchen. I had to backtrack to put on my Robe. I am sure my boys, Chihuahuas, thought I had lost my mind.
As for my scale, she is a bit less smug, she seems to have gained some much warranted respect for me… I think her name is Barbie