“What did it say?” my wife asked.
“What did what say?” I asked in return.
“I heard you step on the bathroom scale.”
“You never tell me what you weigh, so why should I tell you what I weigh?”
“That’s different,” she said.
“You never ask a woman what she weighs.”
“You just don’t.”
“Then fair is fair, a woman should never ask a man what he weighs either.”
“That is just plain silly,” she said, “Now tell me, what did the scale say?”
“It said I am down three ounces.”
“And the pounds?” she asked.
I am not comfortable that she can keep secrets from me but I cannot keep secrets from her, especially about things that I am reluctant to divulge – even to myself.
I realize there is no such thing as a completely honest relationship. How could there be? We all tell little white lies and withholds crucial facts. Everyone does this but it is not something we do out of malice, rather we do it out of love.
Face it, our little secrets are what make us more attractive to each other. Because nothing can be more alluring than what is left to the imagination. It is what holds the greatest power of all.
With me though, things work the other way around.
She keeps telling me I reveal too much.
“Don’t tuck your shirt in so tight,” she scolds.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because it make your belly look big.”
“My belly is big,” I tell her.
“But the world doesn’t need to know that,” she says.
So there you have it. I get nagged for revealing some things then nagged again for not revealing others.
Still, the wonderful thing about secrets is the joy in trying to uncover them – and I came very close to knowing how much she weighs once.
We were at her brother’s farm, walking along the drive that runs between his grain bins. I was trailing about twenty paces behind, gawking at the machinery, when she stopped suddenly and spun around to face me.
“Nice try,” she said.
That’s when I noticed.
Her left foot hovered over the truck scale.
The scale is a large steel platform that weighs grain trucks before and after they dump their load. It handles tens of thousands of pounds and reports what it finds on a big LED reader above the scale – and unlike the one in my bathroom, it is scrupulously honest and accurate to within a pound.
40 thoughts on “My Bathroom Scale”
Another wonderful post. I think most secrets in marriage are scary. Which doesn’t stop me from having a ton of secrets about myself. Let me rephrase. I think my husband having secrets is scary. Or passive-aggressive. Mine are normal and necessary. Ha!
A weighty post! We don’t have a bathroom scale. We’d rather keep those secrets from ourselves too!
Writing a book? That’d be a fun read…
I hope you get the chance to return to blogging soon! I miss your blog!
Hey thanks. I hope to resume blogging before the snow flies but I have a long list of things to get done before winter.
No worries, we will just enjoy the posts when you have the time to get back to them!
I stopped weighing myself! I just skip a meal when I notice I can’t breathe comfortably any more. 🙂
YUP! I knew where you were ending with that one. Although I’m southern CA raised (city life), when I was a kid, I had visited my grandfather. He was a North Dakota truck driver, hauled many things like Sunflower seeds. I often went with him to the scales. Hahahahah! I’ve always weighed more than my skinny hubby. I laugh at watching the warrior shows… the one with the teams and they have to climb up each other on the slanted wall. I’d end up killing everyone. 🙂
Taking a break, eh? I dont remember giving you permission to take a break. I dont even think you have submitted the appropriate request forms to the proper authorities. COME BACK, GREG!!!
Hey! I have a hall-pass signed by the vice-principal herself.
I’ve missed your blog! Hope all is well…
All is well, I am just taking a break from short-form writing to concentrate on longer form ideas.
I don’t bother with ’em; they’re just plain inconsistent. I can weigh myself one day and weigh *ahem* that much, but a week later it comes up with a different figure. I ask you!
I used to have a scale that would weigh differently every time I stepped on it. The variance could be as much as five pounds, one way or the other. Finally, in the interests of accuracy and consistency, I bought a nice, new, digital scale. I still have no idea what I was thinking. I’d give anything to have that old wheel-of-fortune scale back. Now, I don’t have the freedom to say, “Oh, well. It’s never accurate, anyway.”
Beautiful turn of a phrase.
Next time she asks, tell her in stones. In the UK, 14 pounds equals one stone.
Gosh, I never knew what a stone converted to in pounds. Thanks.
And the funny thing about it is that people who know a weight in pounds freeze in panic if they have to translate it to pounds. As a confirmed number-phobe, I kind of enjoy that. It convinces me that, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, I really am part of the human race.
Had you seen that weight you would have needed a brain transplant. Count yourself lucky.
Yeah, and she would have done the operation.
Ha ha ha
Love it. I rotate the dial on mine so it fudges a little. It’s better that way.
I took a hundred pounds off that way.
LOL!!! Yesterday was supposed to be the first day of my new fast-two-days-a-week diet. I made it until 4:30 pm. before all hell broke loose.
I am going on a chips and beer diet. I doubt if I will lose weight – but I will be a whole lot happier.
This is such a weighty subject. I thought I would weigh in my two ounces. Be glad you don’t weigh sixteen tons: https://youtu.be/RRh0QiXyZSk
So if I weighed sixteen tons, what would I get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
Good one – weight, sizes, all that stuff, off limits. You should know that by now 🙂
I need reminding… 🙂
Easy for me. We keep separate scales. I happen to know, his measure lower than mine, an odd quirk that means I always loose weight when cleaning bathrooms.
I know exactly how that works. 🙂
Having clearly ‘wintered well’ may I suggest you set the scales to ‘kilo’s’ that way you won’t have a blind clue what anyone weighs.
In cold climates, people intentionally put on weight for winter. In Alaska, the supermarkets used to bring in pallets of peanuts in late summer so people could start packing on the pounds. Always loved peanuts and beer.
In our rather damp climate there’s a bird living down the road who has plainly decided to put on weight for life…big, big gal I tell you!
There is so much, ahem, to weigh in on here.
But I will keep it simple: I don’t own a bathroom scale.
Comments are closed.