All Good Things (and Bad) Must Come to an End

My second post was dedicated to my crazy scale, and this post will be the same. I actually spend quite a bit of time reflecting on my relationship with my scale. I must admit that I have a dysfunctional relationship with my scale. Whenever I stand on it in my bathroom I promise myself I will not weigh myself for at least a week. However when I wake up the next morning I hear the scale calling to me, “Amy…Amy…come weigh yourself. You have probably lost ten pounds. Come and see.” And like any addict I am back on the scale looking down at the numbers waiting for my fix for the day.

I swore to myself that I would never buy myself a scale, but my pusher (a.k.a. doctor) weighed me on his and his scale and it showed a weight loss of 16 pounds in ten days. From that point on I was hooked. I went out and bought my own, and ever since then I have been chasing that same high I got at the doctor’s office. It even got so bad I became a three times a day weigher. I was hopeless.

Then last week a miracle happened that would force me and my scale apart forever. That miracle was David. No, there was no dramatic intervention or such. It was much simpler. David got on the scale and broke it! (I am laughing…right now, because thank God it wasn’t me. I would have died right there on the spot.) The scale just plain gave out; it split down the center! (Again I am laughing…) Crack…big crack…you should have seen his face; it was priceless.

Thanks to David I have finally not weighed myself in 10 days. I probably will not go out and buy another scale. However I can’t make any promises because I am going to see my doctor (a.k.a. pusher.) in a few weeks and if his scale shows a great weight loss all bets are off. Next time I will buy a heavy-duty-industrial-strength-you-can-weigh-anything-on-it-kind!