Things that Weigh Heavily

In my head, I’m still that skinny girl from high school.  Until I stand up or try to do something physical.  Like, bend over to pick something off the floor.  So in an effort to lose weight and get back to that skinny girl, I started Herbalife.

It’s been great.  A shake in the morning, a shake or a bar at lunch, maybe a protein bar or a handful of almonds during the day as a snack, and a reasonable dinner.  And so far, in about 6 weeks, I’ve lost just over 10 pounds.

The most frustrating part, though, is the weekends.  For whatever reason, the weekends come around with maddening regularity, and I can’t stick to my plan.  Up until Saturday morning, I’ll have lost 3 or more pounds for the week, and then the weekend hits and by weighin on Tuesday, I will net only 1 or 2lbs of loss.

So.  Frustrating.  I just need the willpower to do the right thing.

I didn’t realize how much my little routine every day was noticed by anyone.  Until last night.  Every morning, I will weigh to see how the day is going to go.  And then before I go to bed, I weigh again, to see what tomorrow will bring.  I know – we’re not supposed to do that.  But it’s my thing.

Our scale is possessed.  I promise, it is.  It has an evil sense of humor, that scale.  It’s a fancy once and cost over $100.  But you know – it will tell you not only your weight, but also your BMI, the pounds of actual fat, your water density, and your bone density.  And I think it also tells your horrorscope, but I haven’t found that button just yet.

It also has that evil sense of humor.  I’ll get on it, and it will read what I think is a very good number.  Hey look at that – I’m down 3lbs!  And just when I’m about to do the high-five to myself (I do actually give myself a mental high five for good numbers) – it will change, and weight about 3lbs more than it just did.  Just long enough for me to be all excited, and then whammo!

What hubby heard last night was “Yes! … **&^$ you, scale.  You suck.”  I heard him in there giggling, and when I came out of the bathroom grumbling, he acted all innocent.  But then he said it does the same thing to him, and he thinks it has to be “reset” much like a blood pressure cuff – wait 30 minutes, and it will read different.

Whatever.  I’m done with the evil scale.  I’m going to go buy a $10 old-fashioned scale and calibrate it with a 4lb bag of flour.  And then I’ll probably step on one and then the other, just so I can laugh at the fancy one, and tell it how technology isn’t always right. (Of course, I’m assuming that it’s just wrong).  We’ll see.

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About Chelle

I'm just me. WYSIWYG. A little dash of hyper, a little more of sarcasm. And a whole bunch of honesty.
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