good cop, bad cop

When you think of torture, you probably think of a chair with nails all over it. Or the rack. Or the machine from "Princess Bride" that sucks the life right out of you. Or any number of horrible devices. But, do you ever think of the bathroom scale? I honestly believe that the scale and the full length mirror are two of the world's worst torture devices for someone who is desperately trying to improve their figure.

Here's why...
Every morning, I wake up at 5:30am and head to the basement to work out. (Dedicated, I know.) Then I climb two flights of stairs to take a much needed shower. After showering, I stand in my towel looking at the bathroom scale beside the toilet. "Hmmmmm. Did that workout make a difference today?" I try to convince myself that the numbers don't matter and that it's how I feel inside that does. It's an internal battle for several seconds. Then I turn to leave the bathroom, confident that I can carry on my day without stepping onto the scale. I am actually able to leave the room sometimes. Ah, but inevitably I return before getting dressed and climb onto the scale, all the while hoping it will register at least a pound lighter than yesterday. If it does, I am overjoyed. I am sure that these early morning workouts are worth the effort. But, if the number is higher I am depressed for the day.

How can a little thing like the bathroom scale have so much control over me? Well, because I let it. I wonder what would happen if I chucked it into the trash and gave up this personal method of torture...

The other day Mike said he hated the scale in our bathroom. I assumed that it was for similar reasons. Well, he surprised me by saying it was actually because every time he got on it said a different amount. (Big surprise, right?) Except he meant that even if he stepped on, stepped off, and then stepped right back on again it would be different. Time to experiment. He was right. It actually changes each time I get on the scale.

This led me to think about our old scale. It had a similar problem. But also a positive side effect. The old scale always read about 5 pound lighter than the new one. So in my upstairs bathroom I weigh more than in the guest bathroom. Interesting! It's sort of a good cop, bad cop thing now. If I need a little boost, I will weigh in downstairs. If I want a closer dose of reality, I weigh in upstairs.

Mike suggested we purchase a more accurate scale...
Why bother when torturing ourselves in this way has become such an art?