My Scale's Not Working Right!
Well, isn't that usually what people say when the number is too high? No, my number was way too low this morning. It said I lost 17 pounds since last week. As I did not undergo liposuction, I'm pretty sure it's wrong.
I wish I could trust my scale. It's a digital scale, and i've had it for at least five years, and maybe it's dying. Because when i weighed in this morning, it said, 223 pounds. I'd love to believe that, but I know for a fact I did not drop 17 pounds last week. Fat Flush notwithstanding, nobody drops that much weight in a week. Then an hour later, it said 235.2, which is what I'll post for this week, but that's still a 5 pound drop. Not as ridiculous, but given the fluctuation on what the scale says (and that's a 20 pound fluctuation), I can't trust it. Another scale is on the way from A mazon.
I know that there's a lot of people who believe one should just throw out the scale, but I need an objective metric with which to measure my success or what's working for me and what isn't. And if I can't count on my tool, that just throws everything out the window. So I can't wait for the new scale. Betcha you never heard a fat chick say that before, eh?
Meantime, I'm back on the wagon and feeling good. And once again, I'm running the Riverwest Beer Run this Sunday. Yes, it's as preposterous as it sounds. A 1.8-mile race (and there are people who actually RACE it) with four stops, each of which runner down a 12-ounce of barley pop. First person to stagger across the finish line wins. In the spirit of the preposterousness that it is, myself and my friends are doing what we did last year -- running it in evening gowns and tiaras as "Team Prom Queen." Actually, only the two of us are actually running it. The rest are taking it easy. Good for them.
I wish I could trust my scale. It's a digital scale, and i've had it for at least five years, and maybe it's dying. Because when i weighed in this morning, it said, 223 pounds. I'd love to believe that, but I know for a fact I did not drop 17 pounds last week. Fat Flush notwithstanding, nobody drops that much weight in a week. Then an hour later, it said 235.2, which is what I'll post for this week, but that's still a 5 pound drop. Not as ridiculous, but given the fluctuation on what the scale says (and that's a 20 pound fluctuation), I can't trust it. Another scale is on the way from A mazon.
I know that there's a lot of people who believe one should just throw out the scale, but I need an objective metric with which to measure my success or what's working for me and what isn't. And if I can't count on my tool, that just throws everything out the window. So I can't wait for the new scale. Betcha you never heard a fat chick say that before, eh?
Meantime, I'm back on the wagon and feeling good. And once again, I'm running the Riverwest Beer Run this Sunday. Yes, it's as preposterous as it sounds. A 1.8-mile race (and there are people who actually RACE it) with four stops, each of which runner down a 12-ounce of barley pop. First person to stagger across the finish line wins. In the spirit of the preposterousness that it is, myself and my friends are doing what we did last year -- running it in evening gowns and tiaras as "Team Prom Queen." Actually, only the two of us are actually running it. The rest are taking it easy. Good for them.
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