I’m just being honest: I’ve had more bathroom scales than boyfriends

20 Aug

Yes, it’s true. I’ve been through more bathroom scales than men. And while this may be an indictment of my social life, it’s more of an indictment of my relationship with my weight and more importantly my body. Not surprisingly, my bathroom scale has (read: I have) always been more critical of my body than any boyfriend I have ever had. Yes, I would probably neuter a guy for criticizing my ass, but that really shouldn’t bias the data too much, right?

Like most of my relationships, when I get a new bathroom scale, I’m going through a very euphoric period in which I feel like working out more and eating healthier. So I look forward to every weigh-in and see any spike in weight as something I can easily overcome with hard work. Later on, the bathroom scale starts spitting out things I cannot understand, given how dedicated  and patient I have been, especially with its faulty readings. Suddenly every weigh-in is second-guessed. I start checking up on the scale several times a day.

Then there’s a powerful explosion of anger. I will have a really awful knock-down-drag-out fight with my bathroom scale in which we say things to each other that cannot be taken back. At which point, the relationship is over and my bathroom scale ends up at the Salvation Army if it’s still in working condition or on the curb waiting for the garbage truck.

For a while, I’ll rejoice in the freedom of not weighing myself. I’ll eat an entire apple pie and regale in the fact that there’s no scale to notice the resulting 3 lb. gain. However, after weeks (to be honest: months) of undisciplined and mindless eating, I will begin to wonder about my weight. I’ll try on a few of my tighter fitting jeans to try to calm fears. When I can deny my curiosity no more, off I go to Walmart to pick out my latest victim. Chrome, Glass top, digital dispay up to 2 decimal points, AA battery-powered, with weight-tracking. Sexy! And the cycle begins again.

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