Warning! This Post Contains Male Nudity (But it's still safe for work)

Well, here it is.  The day I reveal my weight to the world.  I stopped at Walmart last night to buy a scale, and after being told the $7 ones aren't as accurate (why sell them), I opted into a lovely black digital model.  It claimed to be as accurate as the one at the doctor's office, which I'm not sure is always so accurate.  The last time I hopped on the scale at the doctor's office (about three weeks ago) I weighed 289.  That number set off my freak out flag because my highest ever, which just happened to be achieved at about this time last year, was about 294, and I was getting dangerously close to that magical 300 milestone that I swore I'd never let myself hit.  Okay, that's not entirely true.  One time when I was at about the 285 mark, I decided maybe I'd shoot for 320 so that I could get on Biggest Loser.  I knew that tipping the scales at a measly 285 would never get me past the screeners, but I figured 320 with my great personality had me as a shoo in.  Thankfully, common sense prevailed and I didn't risk my life for a reality TV show.  But know that I was thiiiis close...

Anyway, I hit 289, freaked out, started re-evaluating things, and, four weeks later, I'm the owner of a new scale.  I walked into the bathroom this morning, climbed on the scale, looked down and saw:

That's right, I saw nothing except for my big fat hairy gut (and yes, there are boxers down there somewhere).  When you reach the point where you can't tell how much you weigh because you literally can't see the scale, it might be time to make a change.  You see, I suffer from what the doctors affectionately call Dunlop's Syndrome because my belly dunlops over my belt.  You may also know it as Dinkydoo Disease, because my belly sticks out further than my....well, you get the point.  Regardless, this wasn't a great start to my new scale experience.

So, I took a deep breath, bent over, and saw this instead:

My toes!  I hadn't seen them in forever, and it turns out they are short and hobbit like.  Who knew?  Also, I saw that my efforts were already starting to pay off.  Now, I know, I can already hear your minds rolling around screaming, "It is a different scale!" and "You weighed first thing in the morning!" and "Water weight fluctuates your result!"  To that I reply: Shut up!  I'm well aware of all of those things, and it seems like every time I've made an effort to drop weight I hear that stupid water weight excuse.  I get it.  It fluctuates. So does my self-esteem, and you being obnoxious isn't helping the cause.  And the moon pulls differently on the Earth, which effects the tides, which effects gravity, which effects my weight.  Perfect, now you've pitted me against the moon.  We're trying to lower my blood pressure here, folks!  I also know that it is all about carbs and that my bones probably don't weigh that much more than yours.  Will that stop me from eating my baked potato for lunch and telling people I'm just big boned?  No, probably not.

Now that we've got that out of the way, let me tell you why buying the scale was probably my biggest mistake.  There's a huge difference between living healthier and losing weight.  One often causes the other, but not necessarily at the pace we'd all like.  Most bigger people don't obsess about their health, they obsess about their weight, regardless of what they say.  I'd love to tell you that my morning aches and pains or my monthly sickness or the recurring kidney issues and borderline diabetes are the main driving force for me.  They are all things I worry about daily, but in my preprogrammed mind, weight is still the obsession.  I know better than to think that I can hop on the scale once a week and update this blog.  Truth be told, I weighed myself last night.  And again last night after I ate supper.  And again when I woke up this morning.  And again five minutes later.  I have another picture on my phone that says 280.7.  I'll leave it up to the imagination on how I lost three lbs in five minutes, but here's a hint: I'm not bulimic and have a new high fiber diet.  The last number was the one I was the happiest with and the one you see above.  Maybe I'm lying to myself, but if it gives me even the slightest feeling of self-accomplishment, I'll take it.

Anyway, this is a demon I'm going to have to fight.  Pounds seem to be the most easily measurable milestones in the beginning, and I hope that I'm able to shake that need to jump on the scale every time I walk by the bathroom.  I even tried keeping the scale in a drawer in my bedroom with the mindset of "out of sight, out of mind", but it called to me like a long lost lover who desperately wants to break my heart again. Well, I'll play her game for now, and as long as I stay strong enough, I know I'm the one who will leave her at the altar this time.

Until then, I'll keep this in mind: What weighs more, a 277.4 lb bag of feathers or a 277.4 lb bag of me?  The answer, my friends, is that I'm as light as a bag of feathers.

Scaling it down,

Jeff