If it makes you feel any better, my husband told me the other day he isn’t reading my blog anymore because I don’t post enough.
Did anyone know he read my blog? Who knew?
So we went to the new practice the other day. They were really nice but I could see I was going to have some trouble. I mean, the scale is practically in the waiting room. Is there anyone out there on the street that can’t see what I weigh?
We went to an exam room and I begged off to the lav. And what did my wondering eyes see? A magical scale there had appeared.
K: Hey, I weighed myself when I was in the bathroom. I weighed (grumble).
Midwife: Oh, that scale isn’t calibrated. We don’t use it.
Damn. My husband looked at me in disbelief.
Then we were downstairs and I was on the scale. With my jeans and clunky boots on.
K: You know, these boots are really heavy and so are these jeans. They have to weigh at least three pounds. So that makes me (grumble). Which is great since I started out at (grumble).
D: WHAT??? (turning to the midwife, who was clearly no-nonsense and writing down the EXACT WEIGHT ON THE SCALE). You know she lies about her weight? At the last place they had the honor system. She “weighed herself” in the bathroom. And lied.
I looked first to see if Judas had stuffed the 30 pieces of silver in his pockets or if it was already strewn on the floor at my feet.
D: And that starting weight? Okay….
He is so not coming with me the next time I go to the office because that’s my glucose test. You think anyone would notice if I gave it to The Boy? Kidding. I kid. I do. Really. I just think if I lie by TWO POUNDS to make myself feel a little better that the whole world SHOULDN’T COLLAPSE.
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