After a year or so with no bathroom scale my husband mentioned a few weeks ago he'd like to have one to check his weight. It's just like him. He's so disciplined. He'll probably get on it, see he needs to lose like three pounds and it'll be off by the weekend.
Yep that's about how it works. Me? I stay away from scales. Some woman stay away from mirrors. I stay away from those gosh darned weight machines as much as possible. I'd rather do the "check to see if the clothes are tight" approach. I really don't want to know anything about numbers regarding my physique especially those numbers that involve my stepping on a little square (or oval) box. To me it's just depressing.
It never used to be that way. I remember stepping on the scale when my kids were about Jr High age and saw a 117 and was pretty happy about that back then. What happened to me?
I happened to be in Ross the other day and there was this very nice Lithium scale on the shelf. Only one. It called my name and jumped into my hands, so I bought the little bugger and now wished I hadn't. I think I was tricked.
Of course the hubby jumped right on the scale pleasantly surprised saying he didn't weigh as much as he thought! Glory! He then looks at me and says "wanna give it a try?"
"Um no. But thanks for the offer." Was he kidding me?
So later in the week when no one was around I tentatively stepped on that little lithium scale and jumped off pretty quickly. How can that be? How can this little box tell me I weigh that much? So I stepped on it again and it said the same exact thing.
So the announcment came at dinner. I'm on a mission. Fourteen pounds and me are going to separate. Somehow, somewhere, and soon I hope.
I figured out that I am only four pounds shy of my full-term pregnancy weight. How can that be?
Now that's depressing.