el-be-esses = stresses

Like most women, I monitor my weight on a regular basis. I have a routine, and am pretty superstitious about it, only weighing myself in the morning because that’s obviously when you weigh the least. And who wants to weigh themselves when they weigh the most? That’s dumb. No one wants to know if they have gained two pounds, they only want to know when they have lost weight.

Unless you are on steroids. In which case, you have issues. But thanks for playing.

Or you’re a guy. To be honest, I am annoyed with you. Annoyed that you are happy you gained weight, and also annoyed that you can lose weight by sitting on the couch for hours on end. :grumble:

Aside from you annoying, dysfunctional people — I think the rest of you agree with me. Here is where this gets interesting: my scale is broken. It picked an optimal time to break, you know right after the holidays. The time when the majority of the world has gained an average of something like seven pounds. Seven is a death-trap number, just so you know. It’s right between five and ten which means you might as well go to ten, because you are probably not going to drop to five. Cow.

I didn’t realize it was broken before because I live alone and am the only person that weighs myself at my designated time. (I also refuse to weigh post-shower. Wet hair weighs more. Duh.) So, for an extended period of time, which to be quite honest with you was not only depressing but also made me want to eat ice cream 23-hours a day, I was convinced I had gained the dreaded seven-pound-holiday-kill-me-now.”

Anyway, J weighs himself everytime he is in the kitchen — without fail. He also works out religiously and prays to the Gods of high metabolism. The scale became most curious when he gained three pounds. GASP!

I know, three pounds you say? Who gives? I gain three pounds after every meal and the week before my period. Well, J doesn’t have a period and he definitely doesn’t gain sporadic weight. Additionally, three is the seven between zero and five…the first black hole on the freeway to porksville.

Then he lost two pounds. (Bastard.)

All the while, I was gaining and losing weight on a daily basis and had convinced myself that not only was I slacking on the hot yoga, but also that I needed to prepare myself on the daily for my inevitable snack-attacks. Clearly this was the cause of my numerical problems.

Then I dropped five pounds…and J gained. WTF?

Yup, that clinched it. My scale is broken. The only place I can put the stupid thing is the kitchen, as every other surface in my apartment is carpeted — well aside from the lanai. But we wouldn’t want people trying to jump, now would we?