I’m having a day of reckoning.
It started like this:
I got on the scale for the first time in a long time.
I looked at the number.
I blinked a few times.
I got off and back on.
I got off and made sure that the little line matched up exactly with the zero.
I got back on.
I sucked in my stomach.
I looked at the number.
And counted every little line past the number I didn’t think I was even close to weighing.
I got off and made sure the zero was still lined up correctly.
It was.
I got back on.
Same number.
I looked up into the mirror.
I looked myself straight in the eye.
I considered jumping off the roof.
Or screaming like a two-year-old.
Or beating the scale to smithereens with Christian’s new baseball bat.
But instead I shrugged my shoulders.
It’s really just simple math.
I’ve been taking in more than I’ve been burning off.
Damn cheesecake.
I looked down and studied the number one more time.
I stepped off.
Then back on one more time.
Then off again.
I put the scale away.
I ate a small breakfast.
And wrote down the points for it.
