After days of avoiding the scales which are discreetly hidden behind the bathroom sink I finally pulled them out, wiped off the cobwebs and dust and laid them on the floor.
I looked at them long and hard – are they friend or foe I asked myself. How could a machine have such a huge influence on my life?
Right, bite the bullet JJ but I should have a little wee wee before stepping up to the plate.
Whilst sitting on the loo I remembered I had had a cup of tea and two gingernuts this morning. Perhaps I ought to put it off until first thing tomorrow.
No, go on girl ( said my good angel) lets get started but don’t forget to take your nightie off before you weigh and you must breath in (?!?!).
I step on very carefully not wanting to rock the machine and upset it. Finally I have all my weight (apart from my little finger still balancing me on the edge of the sink) firmly on the scales.
Ha, Ha, they are showing kilos instead of lbs. Brilliant, haven’t a clue about kilos – doesn’t look too bad.
I step off, bend down to adjust the measurement thingie thinking, that’s burning a few calories, and ease myself ever so gently back on.
“That can’t be right surely,” I think as I gaze at the dial. Step off and step on again, OMG it is. I really do weigh that much. The two stone I lost before I gave up smoking is nearly all back and it’s clearly all fastened itself to my tummy. H E L P!
THAT IS IT! No more bread or butter or pastry or biscuits or anything nice. The future is protein and fruit and veg.
The future starts ……………………………………………………