I have dieted continuously for the last two decades and lost a total of 758 pounds. By all calculations, I should be hanging from a charm bracelet.
I have done a lot of kidding around with Weight Watchers, but it is the only organization in which I ever lost a great deal of weight. But I fought them.
Every Tuesday morning, a group of us had to "weigh in" before the lecture. Our ritual was enough to boggle the imagination. We got together a checklist of precautions before we actually stepped on the scale.
Bathroom? Check. Water pill? Check. Have you removed underwear, wedding rings, nail polish? Check. Set aside shoes and earrings? Check. Are you wearing a summer dress beneath your winter coat? Check.
The first week I stepped on the scale and my instructor said, "You have gained." (Next week, I cut my hair.)
The next week, she said, "You have lost eight ounces, but that is not enough." (I had the fillings in my teeth removed.)
The third week, I had dropped a pound, but my instructor was still not pleased. (I had my tonsils taken out.)
Finally, she really chewed me out. She accused me of not sticking to the diet and not taking it seriously. That hurt.
"I didn't want to tell you," I said, "but I think I am pregnant."
"How far?" she said coldly, clicking her ballpoint pen to make a notation on my card.
"Possibly three days," I said.
She glowered. "Any other excuses?"
"Would you believe I have a cold and my head is swollen?"
"No."
"How about I was celebrating the Buzzard's Return to Hinckley, Ohio, and had butter on my popcorn?"
She tapped her pen impatiently on the card and stared at me silently.
"Lint in the navel?" I offered feebly.
"How about first one at the trough?" she asked dryly.
I learned quickly never to argue with a woman who had the scales on her side.
I saw my old instructor the other day and she eyed me carefully and said, "When are you returning to class?"
"As soon as I have my appendix removed," I said returning her gaze.
I'm not sure, but I think I heard her moan.
I have done a lot of kidding around with Weight Watchers, but it is the only organization in which I ever lost a great deal of weight. But I fought them.
Every Tuesday morning, a group of us had to "weigh in" before the lecture. Our ritual was enough to boggle the imagination. We got together a checklist of precautions before we actually stepped on the scale.
Bathroom? Check. Water pill? Check. Have you removed underwear, wedding rings, nail polish? Check. Set aside shoes and earrings? Check. Are you wearing a summer dress beneath your winter coat? Check.
The first week I stepped on the scale and my instructor said, "You have gained." (Next week, I cut my hair.)
The next week, she said, "You have lost eight ounces, but that is not enough." (I had the fillings in my teeth removed.)
The third week, I had dropped a pound, but my instructor was still not pleased. (I had my tonsils taken out.)
Finally, she really chewed me out. She accused me of not sticking to the diet and not taking it seriously. That hurt.
"I didn't want to tell you," I said, "but I think I am pregnant."
"How far?" she said coldly, clicking her ballpoint pen to make a notation on my card.
"Possibly three days," I said.
She glowered. "Any other excuses?"
"Would you believe I have a cold and my head is swollen?"
"No."
"How about I was celebrating the Buzzard's Return to Hinckley, Ohio, and had butter on my popcorn?"
She tapped her pen impatiently on the card and stared at me silently.
"Lint in the navel?" I offered feebly.
"How about first one at the trough?" she asked dryly.
I learned quickly never to argue with a woman who had the scales on her side.
I saw my old instructor the other day and she eyed me carefully and said, "When are you returning to class?"
"As soon as I have my appendix removed," I said returning her gaze.
I'm not sure, but I think I heard her moan.
~~Erma Bombeck~~
You've gotta love Erma Bombeck!!!
Blessings,
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Kind words are like honey—
sweet to the soul and healthy for the body.
Proverbs 16:24