Sep 6, 2012

The blog in which I tell you how much I dislike my scale (and, a certain family member)

Shay is still sickly, and woke me at 4:15 AM in need of more medicine.  I got her settled with a portable DVD player, stuck a movie in, and headed back to bed.  I never made it back to sleep, and by the time I had to wake Charlie, I had showered, and Shay had joined Geoff in bed for a morning cuddle.  After my shower, I grabbed the scale.  I know, I know.  It seems futile, but I still do it.  I had a reason this time.  More on that in a second.

First, let me tell you about my scale.  My mother in law, who I have not spoken to in about two years, (did you just hear the angels singing?) gave us this incredibly fancy scale, along with a Furminator dog brush for Tai, may he rest in peace, for our fourth wedding anniversary.  They were the two most ridiculous gifts to give in combination, and I was insulted for years.  Now, I realize how miserable a woman she is, and don't think the universe could handle my pouting about it, so I appreciate them for what they do for me.  One, they help me lose weight.  When I brush enough of my hair out, I lose weight.  And how do I know?  Because I have this mac daddy scale to tell me.  *I have some impressive body hair grow-age in progress.  I think that is enough.  Thank you lady who gives weird gifts!  (She also gave me her son, and I guess I really should stop complaining since he was one of the best gifts I have ever received.  Even if he is sometimes damaged and I have to have him fixed on ocassion.  At least I never have to change his batteries.  And she potty trained him.  Thanks for that!)

So, I reach and grab the scale, hop on, and Shay yells over, "What do you weigh?"  I was thrown by her curiosity.  I threw out a number.

Me- 34.
Her- Really?
Her- Really.  How much?
Her- Really?
Her- Come on.  How much?
Her- Really?
Her-Mom!  Tell me what you weigh!
Me- (Changing it up a bit here) 45. (See what I did there?  Clever, eh?)
Her- Mom!  Tell me the truth!
Me- (Thinking in my head, "You can't handle the truth!") 202!
Her- Mom!  Stop! Tell me how much you weigh!
Me- Okay.  71.
Her- Really?  Is that really what you weigh?
Her- Okay.

To which Geoff says, "Now you have something to blog about today."
Me- Yeah, but it was only slightly funny in person, and won't translate well on the blog, and now that I know how much I really weigh, I can't make and enjoy these cheesecake pops I found on Pinterest.  My scale won't allow it.  And now, neither will my daughter.

Source: via Cindy on Pinterest

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