January 22, 2010 A Happy Scale Whore
By voiceomt2002
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As anyone in our sisterhood of Scale Whores Anonymous (SWA) knows, I'm the nut case who keeps track of her weight by writing it down on the bathroom mirror with a wipe-off board pen.
I have an antiquated bathroom scale that looks like it belongs in the Art Deco Revival era several decades ago, and I love it because of that beauty. I know it's not accurate, but I step on it anyway every day. (That's why there's an SWA-- we're compulsive about it.)
Last month, just before Christmas, when I stepped on the scale at the doctor's office, I got a nasty shock. Despite repeated attempts to be very good, I'd *gained* a pound. EEEK!
So, I was determined to get back on the wagon. I pulled out the old food journal and locked all the carb contraband out in the cabinet outside.
My scale said I lost. At one point it dipped down to 205 lbs, and my shriek of joy should have shattered the bathroom window. (Thank you, tempered glass.)
Still, I drove with butterflies in my stomach to the doctor's for my monthly weigh-in. Would his infinitely more accurate scales show how hard I'd been working? When my turn finally came, I stepped on the scale.
The nurse gasped.
My heart sank. I was doomed. Done in by that tangerine I had a week ago. *sob* One little cheat had cost me.
"OMG, Lena!! You've lost TEN pounds!" The nurse did a jig with me. Later, doc gave me a hug. I'm back on the road to One-der-Land, and I think I see it rising out of the mists in the distance. :thumbup:
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