Barely Coherent

I had a serious post I was going to put up about throwing away my scale, because it hates me and MAKES ME FEEL BAD. And yet I still torture myself with it daily. It's a sickness.

It's one of those old style scales with the dial. If I stand toward the front of the scale I can weigh about two pounds less than if I stand on the back of the scale.

Don't think I don't do that. I do. Along with exhaling all that heavy oxygen in my lungs. And worse yet, I convince myself that I weigh less when I do it. I play this little game in my head and as long as I don't stand on the back of the scale first and see the higher number then I can believe I weigh less.

Also, I am allowed to deduct a pound for the uneven tile floor. Another pound for my underwear. And up to two pounds depending on how long it has been since I pooped. Too much information? Probably, huh?

I don't know why I am surprised when I go to my obgyn and find out I weigh ten pounds more than I have convinced myself that my scale at home weighs me. But my doctor's scale is off. Lalalalala... I can't hear you.

So where am I going with this post that reads as if I am all jacked up on caffeine and haven't slept properly in over eleven years?

Ah yes, if you happen to be in your obgyn office or maybe your pediatrician's office pick up their copy of Babytalk magazine. Oh not getting a pap smear or strep test anytime soon? Then go read here. I'll wait.

Back?

Yeah, I am trying to act all cool and like it is not big deal, like my blog is always mentioned in magazines. But that's because Daring Young Mom and I already held hands and jumped up and down, squealing like giddy school girls.

Oh and any new readers stopping by. Welcome. If you are wearing white socks, you'll probably want to keep your shoes on. Kick a path through the legos, toys, and random clothing items my children drop through the house like Hansel and Gretel.

If I'd have known you were stopping by today I would have cleaned up a bit and maybe baked something. At least that is what I always say the first time someone comes over. By the second visit all pretenses are gone and I'll feel completely comfortable serving you a store bought pastry on a melamine winnie-the-pooh bear plate.



* the author of the article, Meagan Francis lost her old blog in an unfortunate blogging accident. You can find her new one here: momwithmore.blogspot.com