This morning, I got on the scale, as I do every morning, to bemoan the fact that the numbers never change appreciably. Imagine my two seconds of joy when it showed my weight had gone down fifty pounds . . . overnight! I went off about my morning routine of breakfast and reading. Thirty minutes later, my husband arrives on the scene and casually remarks, "The bathroom scale is broken." I quickly replied, "Oh, no, I don't think so." He looked at me and said, "The scale said I was fifty pounds less than when I went to bed last night." I encouragingly replied, "Well, I did fix a light dinner yesterday." Still, my husband insisted the scale was, indeed, out of order and we had to buy a new one.
I told one of my friends and she said that under no circumstances should I ever get rid of that scale! I was already thinking I should cut down on my exercise, including housework, as I couldn't risk losing another fifty pounds. My husband told me we were going shopping . . . for a new scale.
I told one of my daughters about the wonderful old scale that her father was insistent on replacing. She said we should keep it because it was obviously taking into account body mass and it seemed to her that we both could live perfectly well without that now-missing fifty pounds. My husband handed me my sweater and said to get into the car.
The new scale is now in place. It isn't even as pretty as the trusty scale it replaced. And, the moment I stepped on the new scale, I knew that the old scale's 'loss' was the new scale's 'gain' . . . as the fifty pounds was back in place.
No comments:
Post a Comment