I do not own a bathroom scale. (I don’t have a cell phone either, but that’s probably a story for a different day) Not having a bathroom scale may be like not having a toaster – it is odd, but you can manage. Incidentally I do have a toaster. It’s a horrible one, but I own it free and clear.
So, without a scale, I have mostly gone about my business blissfully unaware of my own weight. From time to time you come across one, at the doctor’s office or, usually, at someone else’s house, (but practically never in the middle of the road) and then you can take the opportunity to find out how much you weigh. (Yikes! This is either the result of not owning a scale or the purpose of not owning a scale.)
But, as it turns out, the place where I am employed has a scale. I work for a large organization that does a great deal of shipping and mailing and they have a scale. Not a bathroom scale, mind you, but a scale the size of a bathroom! Well, maybe not as big as your bathroom, but certainly larger than my Aunt Rinda’s outhouse.
About once a week I go down to the shipping area and, real casual like, I saunter over to the Giant Scale and I stop right in the middle and check my weight. My wife and I have recently begun eating a more healthy diet and getting some exercise and so Mr. No Bathroom Scale has to go to the Shipping Department to check his weight on a Giant Scale that can handle a Forklift.
Today was Monday – Weigh Day - so I saunter down to shipping to see how I am doing flabwise. I was anticipating a not so good number because last week I fell off the wagon. All for good causes, of course. Boss buys us lunch one day and there’s leftovers the next day and then the Sunday School class picnic on Saturday and then a churchwide cookout the next day. I think there is still dried hot dog water under my nails. Fingernails.
Anyway, when I arrive at the Giant Scale there is a gang of women with about three suitcases per using it! My scale! Now what am I going to do? I can’t weigh later – after lunch – I’ll be heavier! I know what you are thinking. Why didn’t I just walk over and ask if I could step on the scale – it would only take 5 seconds? Yeah, well, how many of you weigh for the public? I’m not doin’ it.
Well, I decided to just walk around the perimeter of the basement and come back around to the scale. How long could it take to weigh a few suitcases? Boom! Put the bag on the scale, Boom! Read the number, Boom! Remove it, Boom! Another bag! And so on. What, it’ll take me five minutes to walk the basement and I’ll come back and they’ll be gone.
But NO! They are still there! And bags are open and stuff, STUFF! is being moved from bag to bag! Apparently there is some goal these bags have to meet and the owners of said bags will stay RIGHT THERE AT THE SCALE until every bag is just Goldilocks right!
So, I was licked. It was lunchtime. I went and ate my salad and made myself who knows how much heavier. When lunch was over, back down I went and weighed after the Luggage Chapter of Weight Watchers meeting had broken up. And my hot dog indulgences of the previous week had indeed punished me. The scale flashed a number I won’t repeat here and now. It was a total from two weeks ago. I’ll tell you when I have a happier number. After I, like the luggage, have moved some of my stuff.