Monday, August 4, 2008
Our scale cratered last week. That scale has been a faithful companion in the journey up to my peak weight of (Yikes!) 243 pounds, and it was equally trusty through the long days of the weigh down to the sane 160's. Seventy-something pounds do not shed themselves. That scale heard a few dirty words over the eight or nine months it took to reach my goal weight. I'm sorry to see it go, but the poor dear was claiming I weighed 110 pounds last week. (I'm five foot eight, and that number on the scale would be a cry for intervention had it been accurate.) Owning one of the irritatingly smug talking digital models that calculate body fat and water weight would've offered new opportunities to snipe at an inanimate object, but Don was set on a more basic model that only registered our total weight with a standard dial.