IMG_2633

The old bathroom scale is mercurial in providing my weight.  It’s an old scale; I daresay some of the part aren’t functioning properly. As I get on and off and on again, it provides a series of readings with a rather large standard deviation.  The ritual is I take the average of a few ascents or I pick the lowest reading.

Like a broken clock that is right twice a day (while a slow clock is never correct), by using it as my only scale I get a consistent inconsistency.

Last week Someone came home from Bloodbath and Beyond with this king-size titanic unsinkable Molly Brown new scale. As you can see, it is clear with digital readings in pounds and kilos. To my horror it tells me I am nearly seven pounds heavier than I was last week on the old one. Someone, always the rationalist, thinks this is Thanksgiving weight gain. I found it amazing (and abhorrent) I could have gained seven pounds in one week. Alas, this scale doesn’t have readings swings but is like plain-song la la la one one note, or weight. We are not amused.  I brought up the possibility it was faulty and should be brought back to the store for a refund. Someone states he weighs more too, about seven pounds. So we have been living is fool’s paradise as it were.

As you can see from the photograph, the new scale is more transparent both figuratively and literally. When I step off from the clear plate I leave behind my carbon footprint. I anticipate Mr. Scale will need frequent wipes with Windex.

My saving grace about the seven pound increase is my trousers aren’t tighter. I put on a pair of jeans not worn in months and lo! they are no tighter.  Along the logic in the ‘witch trial’ scene in “Monty Python and The Holy Grail” I’ve concluded I am not fatter but more dense. Carl Sagan states we derive from star-stuff;  I must be slowly translating back into a star – a neutron star.  The thought is comforting especially if it means I will become more bright and cynosure and men can’t resist gravitating towards me.