My digital scale has been in hibernation.
You see, we have an ongoing battle, the scale and I.
So, when the battery died several months ago, I declared a victory and put the scale away.
But still it taunted me.
Luring me with its siren song, it’s promise of a new low number.
Yesterday I finally succumbed and put in a new battery.
And then, after having evacuated my bowels and removing all clothing, I stepped upon the scale with the confidence borne of weeks of Lean Cuisine meals and no soda.
There was no rapid flashing of numbers like on the “Biggest Loser” but an immediate three digit red display glaring back at me.
I stared down at the scale in stunned disbelief.
“IMPOSSIBLE!!!” I cried (only I said it in my very best Spanish accent “imposseeeblah”)
I stepped off the offending scale and, resisting the impulse to dash it and its horrible 247 to the cold, tiled bathroom floor, shook it.
Then I checked to make sure it was on lbs not kgs.
I put it back down on the floor.
Whispering a prayer, I girded my loins (i LOVE that phrase) and I got back on.
The display showed a new, lower number.
But don’t even THINK that I’m going to tell YOU my new lower number!
Suffice it to say, my days of Lean Cuisine meals are not over just yet. As a matter of fact, they are stretching out into the foreseeable future, or at least until Shop Rite takes them off sale.
I entreat you, oh dearest of Internets, that if you catch me putting an Oreo, or Snickers bar or Vienna Fingers or ANYTHING sweet into my mouth, you will immediately smack me.
I'm counting on you.