my scale. i have shared this story many times, but it might be worth sharing it again. one of my very favorite families and best friends moved out of the country four years ago. my dear friends divvied out their belongings between their friends, family and a storage unit. i have been housing a few things: kitchen table and chairs, two dressers, a cabinet-y thing-a-ma-bob, an ironing board, a few pieces of artwork, a "jetski", and the scale.
this is a fancy schmancy scale. it is programmable, digital, tells you other things besides your weight and is kind of fashionable in a "i'm either going to make you hate yourself or love yourself" kind of way. the scale was programmed for the man of the household and i've never been able to figure out how to change that, but frank whenever you're ready your scale still knows you. if i remember, i jump on the scale using the "guest" feature, although i hardly consider myself a guest. this feature makes you manually enter your age, gender and height.
i store this scale in my bathroom. that seems like a standard place to keep it. it lurks under a rolling cart that houses other bathroom appliances such as flat irons, curling irons, clothes irons and other things of that nature, that never talk back or purposely make me cringe. the scale is typically shoved under the cart as far back as i can push it because even just the edge of it makes me cringe and i'm rarely satisfied with my results when using it.
for some unknown reason i decided to pull the scale out today. now i'm a fairly clean person but my hair falls out daily, i shed like a great dane, and for some reason my bathroom is pretty dusty. it might be because it also houses my laundering machines and my cat, oscar, shares this space with me. what i'm getting at, is when i stuck my hand underneath the cart and pulled the scale out it looked like it was wearing a sweater. a sweater made from my hair, dust and probably some oscar hair. gross!
after a quick dusting, because i don't need any extra help putting numbers up on the screen, it was time to set up the scale for a "guest". i enter in all the pertinent information: 38, female, 5'8" and prepare myself for what might be coming. to get the most accurate reading possible, i step out of my tired pink slippers and shed my oversize uglier than ugly pink robe, and take a deep breath.
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| ugh! that is my actual reading, this morning, thursday, june 26th. |
my first reaction is "lies! you are a filthy liar!" there is no way that the digital print out is correct. my clothes still reasonably fit like they always have. some of my summer clothes don't quite button, but those have always been "end of summer" clothes, i've still got time. 140.4! i quickly get off the scale before it gives the rest of my reading that i don't even want to see (imminent death if you start exercising soon).
i've mentioned my winter ass a few times and have vowed to do something about it. are you ready? i have committed myself to three events that will definitely help in transforming my winter ass. in october i will, now i said i was going to do this last year and ended up not doing, but this year i am running a 1/2 marathon. i've also committed to running a full marathon in june. the biggest motivator of all, i promised my sister i would ride naked in the solstice day parade with her next year. time to get the jiggly bits a little less jiggly!
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