Why Do We Hail the Almighty Scale?

Admit it. You do it. So do I. When you’re eating healthy and trying to lose weight, you get on the scale more than you should…right? When I get up in the morning, one of the first things I do is stagger onto the scale. I can’t help it. I’m curious. It’s like I don’t even know what I’m doing…I just gravitate toward it. If the number stays the same, I’m alright. If it goes down, I’m ecstatic for the rest of the day. But if that number goes up…hell hath no fury like a Princess Dianne who’s given up all her vices and doesn’t see any progress. Hella bad news. Does anyone else do this to themselves? That electronic bastard in our bathrooms has way too much power over us, doesn’t it?

In fact, years ago when we still lived in California I was so frustrated with my lack of progress that I jokingly offered up a sacrifice to the scale in hopes that it would start to budge again. What did I sacrifice? A Hostess Ding Dong, of course.

Mr. Scale, why do you taunt us so?

Yes, I said Mr. Scale. Of course the scale has to be a man, right ladies? Sorry, guys. I’m not associating Mr. Scale with all you men (especially not the good ones), I promise. But my love/hate relationship with the scale does seem to parallel my relationships with some of the worst men I ever dated.

Here’s how I see it: He’s always laying around the house, not doing anything. Sure, he looks good and technically he’s there when I want him. But no matter what I do or how hard I try, sooner or later I end up feeling bad about myself. Not to mention I always have to be on top. Need I say more? πŸ™‚ What a jerk!

I’m sure some men have their issues with the scale as well – but we women seem to bear the brunt of the scale’s wrath thanks to the miracle of our reproductive systems. We’re always bloating, contracting, cramping, or retaining water. The word “uterus”, as you know, is greek for “she who gains a pound for no effing reason”. Look it up.

What to do, though? In the dating world, you can just break up with a jerk – but this is different. I don’t want to break up with my scale. I need it. I like it. There, I said it: I like my scale!

My scale is a compass. So are my tape measure, my heart rate monitor, and my pedometer. I need these tools so that I know whether or not I’m staying on the path. I like that my scale tells me where I am and how I’m doing, I just don’t like it when I’ve done everything right and worked really hard…and it goes up a pound. What the hell kind of mind game is that?

And how’s this for having bad scale karma: One morning, I was miffed that the scale wouldn’t budge. A few minutes later, as I’m sitting on the potty, hubby yells through the door that I should get on the scale when I’m done because “I always lose a pound or two…ha ha ha!”. How witty, really. Don’t go near him, girls…he’s all mine! Don’t get me started on men and the weird “pride” they have about their productivity in the bathroom. Anyway, I followed hubby’s advice and got on the scale after I was…productive. Know what happened? The number on the scale went UP. UP!!!

Frustration with the scale is just one of the excuses I’ve used in the past when I stopped trying to be healthy. I’d just curl up in a room with a box of Little Debbies and all would be right with the world again. That’s not happening this time. This time I’m taking a proactive stance against Mr. Scale and his numbers game. In the next few days, Mr. Scale is going to get a facelift…and he’s going to end up looking something like this:


Pretty good, huh? I love it. I’m going to tailor mine towards my personality, though, so it won’t look exactly like this…but you can bet I’ll post pictures when I’m done. πŸ™‚

Until then, I’m avoiding Mr. Scale for a few days. I try not to get on it every day, anyway. Since it went down a pound on Friday morning, however, I’m trying to give Mr. Scale some healthy distance. If I get on it and it goes up, I’m just going to get pissed off. And I don’t like being pissed off.

Speaking of being pissed off, it’s late Sunday afternoon and the weekend is almost over. What the hell happened there? I think I’ll go take a break and play The Sims 3 for a while and then I’ll go clean the kitchen. Again. Hubby’s making himself some pulled pork and I’m sure he’s left the usual trademark messes behind: barbeque sauce in the silverware drawer and a greasy hand print or two on my cabinets.

Maybe I should smack him with my scale.




Omega Ultra Slim Digital Bathroom Scale, 400 lb. Capacity, Sense-On Technology

11 thoughts on “Why Do We Hail the Almighty Scale?

  1. I wish I could forget about Mr. Scale. But I can’t. First thing in the morning, I pay it a visit. One day, maybe…

  2. At the stroke of midnight 1/1/12, I started my “life style change” (again). This time, I decided I wasn’t going to step on Mr Scale. I have let him control me for long enough. So far so good….until today. New batteries were put into Mr. Scale and he is just staring at me. Tempting me to hop on. I have walked past him many times, thinking just this once, but it’s like cheating and eating a candy bar. I had to argue with myself not to listen to him. Not to take that first step to possible disappointment that will make my fresh start to a new life fall to pieces. Mr Scale has been in control but now I AM IN CONTROL!!

    1. Donna, good for you! Go, girl!!!

      Hey, if the temptation is too much you can always give the scale to a friend or family member to hold. I used to ask my hubby to hide it for me and he was pretty good at it…although once he hid the scale with the cleaning supplies. Puh-leez! (Although I was kind of impressed…I didn’t even realize he knew where the cleaning supplies were!)

      1. As always Dianne you make me laugh..lol….Kevin sounds like so much fun to live with and great support for you. πŸ™‚
        It’s my moms scale so I put it in her room for only her to use. I don’t want to weigh myself because it has to much of influence on how I’m going to feel that day. I don’t want any bad feeling days. I want to stay on a positive path. I will just let my cloths tell me if I’m losing or not. I finally have someone in my family that supports me too. My aunt calls me everyday to keep me on track. It’s working for me. I have my own private coach..lol Of course reading your blog and facebook helps so much too. You’re a great writer. Keep writing Dianne! Miss ya and Luv ya my friend!

        1. Donna –

          You just said the most important thing right there: it’s working for you. That’s all that matters! I’m glad you have a support system and that things are going well. You got this, girl!

  3. I kicked him out.
    Yup. I told him I was done with the relationship and he should go his way and I will go mine. We no longer live together.
    No more Mr. Scale in my house. The bedroom is mine. The bathroom is mine.
    I stop in at my doc’s office once a month and weigh myself on the same exact scale. They cheer me on as long as the news stays good and are very quiet if I don’t loudly announce the good numbers.
    Supportive women.
    Now if I could only do the same with my Significant Other.

  4. Debbie, that’s awesome. πŸ™‚ Good for you!!

    Everyone going through this kind of battle is only going to be successful if they follow their own gut instinct and do what’s right for them. Congrats on purging this bad relationship from your life. πŸ™‚

  5. You’re comparison between the scale and horrible ex boyfriends made me laugh! You have a great gift for capturing your exact emotions and conveying them to us readers in a simple but fantastic way. Staying away from the sugar loaded goodies is difficult, and having people “catch” you is always a good way to WANT to eat a twinkie just to spite them. Keep it up! This year is proving to be YOUR new year πŸ™‚

    1. Oh, Karina, you get me. You really, really get me. LOL. That Twinkie comment made me nod in deep understanding. I’m getting better, although this may lead to other problems. Sure, I don’t grab for Twinkies anymore but I really had to suppress the urge to kick a guy in the man-snatch the other day. πŸ™‚

Comments are closed.