Thoughts from the ammo line

[Valin]

Power Line:

Scott Johnson

January 1, 2016

 

To greet the new year Ammo Grrrll is WEIGHING IN. She writes:

 

 

It’s January First and the official close of The Eating Season that opened on Hallowe’en. Some perfectly-reasonable people contend that The Season extends all the way to Super Bowl Sunday, if not Valentine’s Day. In general, these people are not battling anorexia.

 

Mr. Ammo Grrrll just bought a fancy new digital scale, but I don’t like it at all. I don’t need an instrument so precise that it tells me that I am one-something-something POINT TWO. You can’t screw around with a digital scale like you can with an old-fashioned scale, finding that sweet spot to stand on to shave off a couple of pounds as you weigh nekkid AFTER going to the bathroom, but BEFORE putting on your deodorant. They frown on that at the doctor’s office. Evidently.

 

I should mention that my relationship with scales has not always been positive. And I don’t even count the one I threw into the basement that time when it was obviously lying its fool head off. My girlfriend Angela gave me a birthday card once with two adorable little toddler girls in the bathroom, and the one standing on the scale says to her friend, “Look! I’m standing on Mama’s crying machine.” Ah, truer words…

 

In my experience, weighing leads inexorably to a Hot Fudge Sundae. How so, you ask?

 

Listen and learn. IF you think you weigh, say, 138, and it turns out you only weigh 136, you say, “Woohoo! I am doing so great! I DESERVE a Hot Fudge Sundae!” On the other hand, if you think you weigh 138, and, God forbid, you weigh 139.4, you say, “I have been on this diet for over three days and have failed to achieve my goal weight. Nothing works. I am an abject failure and will always be fat. I MIGHT AS WELL have a Hot Fudge Sundae.”

 

See how I did that there? My advice: don’t weigh. Unless you really want a Hot Fudge Sundae.

 

(Snip)