Letter to my Scale

Dear Scale,

We’ve had our ups and downs. Literally. And when we go up together, well, that’s usually my fault and I wouldn’t dream of holding you responsible. But this week, I have a bone to pick with you. I busted my balls this week. I recorded everything I ate, and I didn’t eat Thai food once this week. Not once. I sacrificed a second helping of lasagna, had a salad instead of the greasy entrée I really wanted, and I even cut my skinny cow ice cream sandwiches in half! Not only that, but I worked out, and I worked out hard! I tried a circuit class this week, and I circuited the crap out if it! I went back to Petra’s* spinning class! She made me sit next to her- talk about pressure! My new walking buddy and I went walking on a snow day. A SNOW DAY. My nipples were poking through my winter jacket, but I went! And even when I hurt my hip like an old lady, I still worked out and made it ten times worse! (OK, that one might be on me). But all my blood, sweat, and tears poured into this week, and for what? For nothing! I thought we had a deal here. I work hard and you show me results. But you didn’t even have the courtesy to budge. Nope, you lazy sack of poo, you just flashed the same numbers as last week!

I really thought we had a good thing going on; when you show me a loss, I, in turn stay motivated and don’t throw in the towel (and by throwing in the towel, I mean eating to a point where I could have my own VH1 reality show). I don’t want to hear excuses, either! You might say something like, “Muscle weighs more than fat. Maybe you’re just gaining muscle.” Or maybe you’d say, “Everyone has stagnant weeks, keep going, maybe you’ll lose some next week.” And you know what I have to say? “You can kiss the fattest part of my ass.” In the words of stupid and creepy Tom Cruise, “Show me the numbers!” Or something like that. So scale, even though I didn’t get my new Jessica Simpson necklace, AND you put me in a foul mood this morning, I’m prepared to have another go at it this week. But if I stay the same again, I really am going to work towards my own VHI show. Maybe the secret is that I need to eat more Thai food, or maybe I need to shake up my workouts a little bit. My gym just added Zumba classes, and I am also going to add some yoga and pilates on top of my cardio workouts. It’s worth a shot. So scale, if you have any brilliant suggestions, I’m all ears. But as of right now, I don’t think we’re on speaking terms.

Sincerely,
Plump and pissed

*Retraction from last blog: Petra, as it turns out, is German and not Russian. Either way, she comes from a country known for strict regimes.