Hello, Gentle Reader(s?),
I have decided that it’s time to break with my past (almost) tradition of (usually) waiting to create a new category for this blog until I have written more than one post fitting the category that does not yet exist.
You may be wondering why I feel compelled to do so at this time.
It’s because yesterday was Tuesday and the day before that was Monday. This, naturally, leads to the conclusion that today is Wednesday.
Let me explain further…
As some of you know, I am involved in the making of a motion picture. It has been in production for nearly four (4) years. Over that time, I have gained some weight and, while I am still quite handsome, my appearance may have shifted just the slightest little bit. By about 25 (twenty-five) pounds, actually. (I can still get into my costumes and regular street clothes and have not been forced into upsizing my pants, etc., though, if you look really closely, a slight “muffin” effect has become somewhat evident.)
As part of an overall effort to make the “muffin” retreat, I have been weighing myself on, pretty much, a daily basis.
I have, over the years, developed my own “weigh-in” strategy which has proven effective for me. It goes like this:
- Get up in the morning
- Go into the bathroom
- Sit on the chair with the hole in the seat
- Accomplish the required activity
- Dawn my original birthday suit
- Using available nostril-evacuation procedures and the materials required to do so, remove any and all loose or pliable objects and/or substances from as much of my nasal cavities as I can access
- Using approved earwax-expulsion procedures and materials, make any unwanted earwax buildup go away
- Exhale and hold my breath for as long as I am on the scale
- Once all the above weight adding materials have been expelled, stand on the scale and adjust my posture (shift my weight) in an effort to find the lightest possible reading on the digital display (literally) at my feet
In the past, these techniques have served me well. This week, however, something has changed. And not in an acceptable manner.
On Monday, I weighed myself. Weight was several pounds more than I had anticipated. I was not happy.
On Tuesday, I weighed myself. Weight was 2.5 pounds less than on Monday. Still not acceptable, but going in the right direction. I was not as “not happy” as I was on Monday.
Today, Wednesday, I weighed myself. Weight was 2.5 pounds more than on Tuesday. Definitely not acceptable and going back in the wrong direction.
After about a minute of considering my options, I went over to the sink, turned on the water and expectorated into the downspout. Then I went back to the so-called “scale”, exhaled, held my breath, grabbed onto a towel rack, adjusted my stance, looked down between my feet and beheld what I consider to be a minor miracle – I was now 1.5 pounds lighter than I was 90 (ninety) seconds prior to the current weigh-in effort.
It still wasn’t back to where it was when I wasn’t “not happy” as I was on Monday, but it was better than when I wasn’t happy just before I spit.
For this reason, I have come to the conclusion that my bathroom scale is laughing at me. It intentionally moves around and mocks me as I attempt to ascertain an accurate measurement of my own personal tonnage.
It goes out of its way to make me think I’m fat.
My bathroom scale is not my friend.
This has caused me to consider the possibility that I am not the only one; that, indeed, there may be others – maybe even dozens of them – who are unsuspecting victims of cruel bathroom scales. Scales which lie, silently, in wait for the next opportunity to jeopardize the self-image of the one person who relies on its personal integrity to provide accurate information regarding that person’s body fat content.
So, if there is anyone else out there who suspects that they are being tricked in this manner, I propose the following statement of intent:
Please raise your right hand and repeat after me:
I, (insert your name here), do solemnly declare that my bathroom scale is not my friend, that I cannot and will not trust any and all information it chooses to make known to me; and that, hereafter, I cannot and will not avail myself of its purported “services” with regard to the accurate measurement of my personal body weight.
Furthermore, I declare that, from this day forward, I will do all in my power to avoid any and all contact with said scale. I will not touch it, I will not stare at it, look at it or even glance in its direction. I will not refer to it in any conversation with any person or animal, be they family, friend, foe or pet.
I will not address it, either directly or indirectly, in any manner, as I go about preparing myself for my own daily activities. I will not think of it in quiet moments or in the rush of the day. I will not dream about it in my sleep.
Finally, if I somehow accidentally find myself actually standing upon it, glaring at the numbers baring themselves in its display, whether analog or digital or listen to any verbal report eminating from it, I will immediately avert my gaze or plug my ears, as required by the manner in which the thing attempts to inform me that I need to eat less and exercise more.
One thought on “The “Raise Your Right Hand And Repeat After Me,” Me – Instalment One: The Bathroom Scale Is Not Your Friend”
I’m pretty sure the washer and dryer are in cahoots with the scale!