I’d really like to say it’s not you, that it’s me.

But that’s not even true – I think it is you.

At first, things were great – we’d get together every week, I did my part, and you told me what I wanted to hear.

Gosh, how I enjoyed weighing in every Thursday morning, seeing your numbers go down from the prior week!  I’d work harder and harder every week, anticipating a yet lower number.

But then, I don’t know what happened.  Maybe it was me, but I don’t think so.

Maybe we just lost our momentum.  Reached a “plateau.”

So I doubled down.

I haven’t had bread with my dinner in months.  Months!

Same with white rice and pasta.  Cut them right out of my life.  Replaced them with extra vegetables or whole grains or legumes.

I eat salad for lunch.  Every. Single. Day.

I have been meticulously tracking my food and exercise.  Parking at the far end of every lot I park in, and not even counting the extra walking.

Instead of walking the dog, we’ve been running.  Running!

And yet, you tell me to put down the cupcakes and get up off the couch.  You don’t appreciate any of my hard work, and I haven’t had a cupcake in YEARS!

I’m told that “muscle weighs more than fat” – I’m not buying it.  If, say, I were powerlifting and actually “bulking up”  that might be a valid statement.  But I’m not, so it isn’t.

I suppose it’s possible that I may have retained a little water – now and then.  Sure, that could skew the readings every so often.  I guess.  It’s been very warm this summer, and I’ve been drinking a lot of water, after all.  But may I remind you that drinking sufficient water is supposed to AID in weight loss?

In fact, without getting too personal, between the amount of exercise I’m getting and the amount of fiber I’ve been eating, I really don’t think I’m “retaining” anything extra, to be honest.

No, I suspect you’ve been gaslighting me for a while now.

I don’t know why, and I don’t know how, but it just isn’t possible that that needle on the scale has stopped moving, no matter what I do.

And that’s just mean.

So here’s the thing.

We’re not breaking up.

And I’m not giving up.

But I’m not going to obsess.  I’m not letting my life revolve around what you’re going to say every time I step on you.

In fact, I won’t be seeing you for a while, I think.  You can certainly remain in your corner of the bathroom because sooner or later I’ll be back. But for now, for the next few weeks, I don’t want to hear from you.

You’re a tool that I use to monitor myself – to keep me honest, if you will.  But lately, I hate to say it, but you’re just being a “tool.”  (Ha!  See what I just did there?)

So, Mr. Fancy Digital Scale, I’ll see you in a couple of months.  Stay cool.

Categories: home humor weight

Tagged as: diet fatty true story

kristinebryant