My scale at home hasn’t changed whenever I step on it, but yesterday I saw the doctor, and her scale put on seven more pounds! The nurse said that it might be off, but maybe she was just trying to make me feel better. If it’s off, is my scale correct? If it’s right, my scale might be broken. Either way, I didn’t like the number I saw. It puts me in a different clothing size.
Just when you fill your closet with beautiful stuff just the way you like it, you need to start all over again.
No, I won’t go to that extreme. I have to check my scale first. This means getting something with a known weight, stepping on and then subtracting what I weigh from what the total weight is with the new object, or something like that. Maybe the thing, being a good 25 years old or so, needs to be re-calibrated or tossed. This takes some scientific processing to figure out, and which I didn’t have time to do today. I did walking today, and some housework taking me up and down stairs with heavy objects like my super-sucking vacuum.
I do exercise; my scale just doesn’t care. It tells me that my calorie counting and efforts to balance my work like in a chair with physical activity amounts to nothing.
Nothing, however, might be good. At least I wouldn’t see my weight go up, even if it doesn’t go down. But that scale in the doctor’s office suggests I could feed a family of four starving zombies, or one great white shark for a week. That’s fattened-for-slaughter predator fodder. How depressing.
At least, I say to comfort myself, I have not gone too far as many people have done. Sugar content and fat are my watch points, with sodium coming in a close third. After having the same breakfast and lunch every day for this entire home restriction, moving my deserts all week to after lunch so I don’t sit around on extra calories at night when I’m tired, and avoiding sodas and snacking, have produced no positive, but also no negative, results, unless you look at the scale in that office.
So somebody is lying, but at least I haven’t lied to myself.
If things stay even, I’m happy. So many people gain as they age, and many are gaining because food is the only comfort in confinement. So I’m proud of what I have managed to do.
And if my scale is broken, do I really have to buy a new one?
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