Weighty Matters

My husband thought that we needed a scale. I did not think that we needed a scale. I go by the standard that if my clothes fit correctly I'm good. If they are on the snug side, I need to cut my ice cream scoopage down from three scoops to two, and jog an extra half mile each week.

When I go to the doctor for my yearly check up, they always make me step on the scale. Before I exit the waiting area and hop onto the scale, I place a figure in my head that I think should register on the digital screen. I am always five or more pounds off, not in the "I feel great" direction, so, scales depress me.

Every so often they tell my my weight in kilometers. This always makes me smile since I have no idea if the two digit number is close to, or far from, the number in my head. I don't do metrics very well. America doesn't do metrics very well. I'm sure that Brad, the Canadian Pastor knows metrics.

My kids love to play with my husband's scale. This morning my youngest mister and I had a very enlightening scale conversation:

"Can I weight my Lego guy?"
"He is too small to weigh."
"Can I weight myself?"
"Sure, you weight 39.6 pounds."
"How much does this chair weight?" (He only had the leg of the chair on the scale)
"It weighs 1.7 pounds"
"Can I weight the toilet?"
"You cannot take the toilet off of the floor in order to weigh it."
"I could with a jackhammer." [pause] "How much do you weight?"
"I don't know."
"I do. You weight six hundred six."


From now on I am going to hide the scale, and any jackhammers that may be nearby.


Brad Huebert said…
Linda, maybe you should jackhammer the scale, then retire the jackhammer.

Just a suggestion.