Thick Skin for Scales

Because the workplace challenge I’m competing in requires that I weigh in every week, and because shit has come up in the last month (flu, injury, etc) that keeps from getting to weigh in at the same time on the same day of the week, I broke down and bought a scale. Goddammit.

I bought the cheapest one I could find, which turned to be a bad decision. It’s not digital (those were kind of expensive). It has the old school rotating dial. There wouldn’t be a problem, except this scale I bought is weighing me in at FIFTEEN POUNDS HEAVIER than the scale at the gym. What the hell? Every other scale has been within five pounds, give or take, of what the gym reads. Yeah, that’s a decent bit of variation, but five pounds I can live with. But yet, this scale–which I know is set to zero when I get on–has me in at heavier than when I started. Not good for the ego, let me tell you.

I’m trying not to let it bother me, but I feel that I’m going to have to re-calibrate my home scale in order to keep better track of my weight. I think I’ll go to the gym, make sure the scale there is zeroed out, then weigh myself. I’ll take that number, then come back home and weigh myself on the stupid shitty “Mike is a cheap bastard” scale I bought, calculate the difference, then just re-calibrate my scale based on the math.

This kind of shit is why I hate weighing myself, and why I sought to accomplish a goal–i.e., run a Tough Mudder–rather than hit a magic number. Fuck a scale. Fuck a number. Fuck your number if you have one. It’s not about the digits. How do you feel? If your number was 180, would you really let 181 mess with your mind? I wouldn’t. I’d take a massive piss later and call it even.


Your goal will seem distorted until you get closer to it. Bust ass, work hard, and keep at it.


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