I’m going to be out of town on Saturday (my normal weigh-in day), so I went to WW with my mom this morning. This is what happened at the scale:
Scale: Oh look, you’re down 0.6 pounds. Good job.
me: Don’t use that tone with me.
Scale: Whooaaa, neighbor – a little hostile this morning, aren’t we? I’m just saying – 0.6 is still a loss, and now you’re at 20 pounds lost! And you got what you deserved.
me: Excuse me?!
Scale: OK, that came out wrong. It’s only been 4 days since your last weigh-in, and didn’t you eat out a few times in the last few days? Plus, whose bright idea was it to work out so hard on Sunday that you felt like your legs were going to fall off??
me: Alright, alright, I get the point. Wait, who the hell put you in charge?
Scale: Uh, I’m The Scale.
me: Oh, yeah. Well, just be nicer next week.
Scale: Umm…that’s up to you.
me: Whatever. Bitch.
The moral of the story — in a battle of brains and brawn, the inanimate object always wins.