Cookie

My scale is broken. According to its faulty calculations I haven’t lost any weight. None, zippo, zero, zilch.

Well that can’t be right – can it? It stands to reason that it’s broken and about to get much more broken if it doesn’t fix itself soon.

I swear, aside from a couple of double chocolate Oreo cookies I have been on the diet wagon – and!!! I’ve been exercising EVERY day. Just last week I did a three-hour garden squat and pull marathon. Lemme tell you, those weeds make really good weights. They really don’t want to come out of the ground.

Add to that:

Instead of just 30 minutes of walking on my treadmill I get in about eight minutes of full-on trotting before I collapse on my basement floor. Eight minutes people! I’m not doing this for fun – I want some weight loss, but no, my scale silently torments me while all the numbers flick past, higher and higher until stopping at an undisclosed number way higher than say, a mountain.

"But what about the health benefits you’re surely reaping Rene," you ask?

Any small unseen health benefits I’m supposedly achieving are not worth the possible unfortunate positioning of my neighbors in the vicinity of my home when I decide I’ve finally had enough of this scale. I am a humanitarian, afterall.

I do admit, however, I have received small amounts of encouragement from my clothing. Unlike the scale they cannot change to toy with me. My clothes are getting a wee bit looser and they can’t fake it.

Just yesterday, I put on a shirt that I don’t usually wear because it’s a little too snug, but I was rushing and grabbed it – then as I ran down my stairs late for work, I paused. The shirt didn’t cling to my bottom three belly rolls as it had in the past, it floated right past them.

“Now wait a minute here scale,” I shouted. “My shirt hasn’t changed, but why haven’t you?” I demanded.

The scale did not answer. It sat there silently on zero, daring me to step on it again. I didn’t give it the satisfaction, my boss was waiting and I didn’t want to show up for work sweating after beating the life out of that scale – and yes, I believe the scale not only has “life” but a personality. A really nasty personality, that loves to torment me, much like my little sister. It won’t win though, oh no nasty little scale – or shall I call you Cookie? Yes, Cookie, the EVIL scale – you will not win.