Regular readers know Friday is weigh-in day. My practice is to weigh-in first thing in the morning, before I eat or drink anything, just so I have a baseline that doesn’t deviate. That works pretty well, but now and then other scales in other places come into play.
This morning the weigh-in was 264, just like last week. Which is fine, since I made some good progress the week prior. Didn’t give it another thought.
And then I went to the doctor (minor eye infection, no big deal). Where they make you weigh on their scale. Right after lunch. Fully clothed, including shoes and a jacket. All of which (breakfast, coffee, lunch, a bunch of water, shoes and clothes) apparently weigh about ten pounds.
Seeing the scale up over 270 was not a happy-making thing for me.
But I suppose it’s a good motivator to be sure the number looks a lot different the next time I climb on that scale. For some odd reason, they also measured my height. In shoes. At 45 years of age. I’m not growing any taller, and am reasonably certain I’m not old enough to start shrinking just yet. And if I was, as I pointed out, I was wearing shoes. I asked if they would prefer me de-shod, but it was not necessary.
So … next time, if I’m wearing different shoes, I’m going to be a different height. Which they’ll record, I suppose, as my new height.
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