The Mixed Up Brains of Lisa Weinstein

The Bathroom Scale

I recently purchased an apparatus that I have avoided for most of my adult life.  It has numbers on it, and most women want to smash it to smithereens.  Yes, you guessed it, I invested in a bathroom scale.

I figured if I am going to make the commitment to eat healthy, logically I should find a way to track my progress.  My old bathroom scale featured the rolling numbers, where you’re never quite sure if the number “0” is lined up properly.  And, as all women know, an improperly lined up “0” could add a few ounces to your weight.  And yes, EVERY OUNCE MATTERS!

I came home from Target and proudly showed my husband Bob and 14-year old daughter Melissa my purchase, a brand new scale that displays your weight using a digitally enhanced number so that people like me with middle aged vision can actually see how much poundage they’ve packed on.

Bob had his doubts about this new contraption’s accuracy.  “Let’s try testing it by weighing something else,” he suggested.

So, Bob dragged a 10 pound bag of kitty litter out of the garage and plopped it on the scale. 

The stupid contraption displayed a zero. 

So….. I went back to the garage and hoisted yet another bag of kitty litter across the family room and into the kitchen where a freshly minted scale sat waiting patiently for us to weigh something….anything.  Now, with two, 10 pounds bags of kitty litter properly placed where human feet would normally go we expected to see the number 20 in the digital screen. 

The stupid contraption still displayed a zero.

We concluded that the scale must need something of more substance in order to prove its accuracy.  We glanced at each other for volunteers.  I shook my head vigorously.  I had made the commitment to purchase the scale, but to actually get on, no way!  The only time I would allow myself to share an intimate moment with this seemingly innocent looking contraption was in the morning, before I ate a thing, and after I shed every single piece of clothing that could add even a fraction of an ounce.  Weigh myself at night?  Absurd!

Fortunately, Bob volunteered to be our official “Scale Guinea Pig”.  Bob has been on the latest weight loss company’s “Starvation Plus Package Plan” for three weeks now, and has not yet tested its effectiveness.  He stepped on the scale, and immediately, the number staring back at us showed he had lost 12 pounds since his last trip to the doctor a month ago. 

“That can’t be right,” he said.  “I must weigh more than that.”

Sigh.  Back to square one.  We needed another volunteer.  

no. No. NO. NO!   

Not me!

Bob and I both looked at Melissa.  Reluctantly, she stepped up to the plate, or up to the scale, as it were.   Again, we waited with baited breath for the contraption to do its calculations.  When the number stared back at us, Melissa insisted it was accurate.  Still, I wasn’t 100 percent sure.

Having depleted all other volunteer options, I took a deep breath and stepped on the darn thing.  The number did not shock me as much as anticipated, although I had secretly hoped it would be less.  Sigh.

So Bob thought his weight would be more, I thought my weight would be less, and Melissa thought her weight was just right. (Are you sensing a Three Bears fairy tale type of story here?)

Fast forward 12 hours.  There I stood, ready to once again set foot on Mr. Scale.  But this time it had been hours since I’d taken my last bite, and no clothes would increase the number staring back at me.  I put one foot on….then the other.  I held my breath…..then looked down. 

Hmmm, I weighed four pounds less than what Mr. Scale had told me the night before. 

That settled it! 

THE SCALE IS ACCURATE!!

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