I weighed in today. After two weeks of no pop, eating better, drinking lots of water and losing 5 pounds in week one, I lost…nothing in week 2. Insert wtf here. In fact, I gained a pound. This can’t be accurate. Right?
I’ve come to the conclusion that my scale is a jackass. And a commie. It was made in China. And wouldn’t China want us to think that Americans aren’t losing weight so that we keep stuffing our fat, gelatinous faces so that when their time of attack comes, we are too fat to get off the couch and do our Bonzai shit and counterattack??? Obviously I’ve given this entirely too much thought.
Years ago, while embarking on a new Body of Steel adventure, Ms. Steel herself, Tamilee Webb says “I don’t use a scale, don’t own one, get rid of it!” And I remembered thinking yeah right. My scale is the only thing keeping me in check. But obviously the scale is not keeping me in check or I wouldn’t have a Dimples in the Wrong Cheeks blog, I’d have a Check Out My Silky Smooth Muscular Toned Ass Cheeks blog.
I’m going to put the scale away. In another room. Hidden behind things. So I don’t have to hear it snicker as I try to hook my pants. That condescending digitized bastard. Buh bye scale. We shall meet again on February 1st, just to show you I can lose weight. Actually I just want to whip you out on February 1st and stomp on your stupid, plastic black encasement, chanting say my name, say it!!!