The worst betrayals in life come from the oddest sources.
For me, it wasn’t a long-ago boyfriend or fickle friends. Not even old bosses who tagged someone else for that perfect job.
By far, the most frustrating, disappointing, unreliable, and evil presence in my life is the bathroom scale. And every day betrayal emerges anew.
I keep the scale in my home office and step on it first thing every morning. Gingerly. Hopefully. One foot and then both, fresh from a full eight hours of sleep and potential weight loss.
Here’s how it goes: I look down. It shows a number. Wow! Is that right? I lean in closer since I can no longer see numbers with my glasses (I can’t see anything without them.)
I am thrilled! So I step off and then back on, to see if it registers the same. When numbers go down on a scale it’s exhilarating and hard to process; you need reinforcement that it is actually real.
Like when you twist your ankle and find it impossible not to keep stepping on it every once in a while to make sure it still hurts.
So, I get off, and step back on the scale, which is digital. Third time’s the charm! Only to see it jack back up by two pounds. What?
What happened? I try to weigh myself early. Before coffee. Even before putting water in my mouth to brush my teeth, just in case.
Yet this scale just keeps on betraying, telling me one thing, then ripping it away.
My mother kept her weight at 110, even up to her final days. That was a real source of amazement for me since our builds couldn’t have been more different.
Still, she swore by her scale, which I had out in my barn. So I brought it in and placed it right next to the other. Hmmm. Not only do I weigh less on it, but after four tries, the number remained the same! No wonder she loved it!
So now I keep both scales in the office. And when I get variable readings on Benedict Arnold, I step aside to my new favorite, where consistency is really all that matters. As long as it’s less.