No, I'm not part of The Biggest Loser contest. I just happen to be semi-living with my sis-in-law and her BF. And a scale. It's a beautiful, modern, digital contraption that pleads with me. No. Begs me. To just step on it. Just once. Or every time I walk into the bathroom. So I've become obsessed with weighing myself because it's either that or hold it until I can resist the urge to not weigh myself (or wet myself).
At first I ignored this guy. I've never been one to watch the number. Instead, I live by the rule that if I feel good both inside and out, get good nutrition, and exercise, why should that number matter? It shouldn't run my life. But this guy persisted. And tripped me. I literally hit the wall one morning while dressing because I took a step too far back. "You will step on me!" So I relented. And stepped on the damn thing. And have far too often since.
I've become fascinated to watch the numbers change from in the morning (weigh in number one), perhaps after yoga (weigh in number two), after eating (weight in number three), and just before going to bed (weigh in number four). To the scale: I love you. You serve a maddening duty of dishing out both depressing and good news. But please, please, please don't make me want to buy one of your friends. My life and my new house don't need your ruthless numbers.