April 6, 2000 -- 11:29 PM EST

Let's talk about the scale thing.

Been there, done that?

Let's talk about it some more anyway because today, that's what I am thinking about.

I stepped on it. It made me cranky.

Never mind happy blood pressure and most likely, cholesterol.

Never mind super energy.

Never mind improving complexion.

Never mind biking better.

Never mind lifting more weights.

Never mind swimming faster.

Never mind all the cute clothes I've gotten in an easy size 14 in the last few months without even trying them on.

Never mind seeing some cuts in my arms and legs.

Never mind thinking about a baby in the future.

Never mind about a stable self-esteem, a positive body image.

Never mind a rewarding marriage, and a pleasing sex life.

Never mind cooking new, cool things.

Never mind being the most fit I've been in years, and getting better.

Never mind NOT having pain in my joints.

Never mind a flexible job I like.

Never mind fun cyberfriends and RL friends.

Never mind successfully keeping off 25 lbs for almost a year.

Just never, never mind!

Because there is that scale number.

Pissing.

Me.

Off!

I don't usually get this ranked about the scale. I usually don't even care what it says. I know all the reasons it might lie, but I am not immune. I am not superwoman. Every once in a while, it sneaks up on me. While all the reasons above keep me from getting all depressed and bursting into tears, and wanting to kill, it still doesn't mean that I'm dancing a jig.

It still bugs me.

It might not send me into despair, but it bugs me.

This is one of those times when I am low on patience, I look at that number and I want to scream, "Why, dammit!? Exactly how much longer before I get to target?!"

I know it's not a race, I know I am doing it for myself, I know once I reach target I still have to be conscientious so I maintain, I know I have a life besides this whole body project thing.

But it doesn't stop me from being a little freaky once in a while over the bloody pounds.

Why don't they MOVE?!

[...]

Meanwhile, on a TOTALLY different channel...

Futon Frolic.

Me: Tickle me.

Him: Where?

Me: All over. I haven't been tickled in DAYS!

Him: Ok. (tickles sides)

Me: My feet! My Feet!

Him: Ok. (tickles)

Me: Now my neck. Do it! Do it!

Him: Ok. (watches me scrunch up and squeal.)

Me: Enough! Enough neck! Belly!

Him: Feeling demanding today?

Me: Kiss me.

He kisses.

Me: Hug me now.

He hugs me now.

Me (teasing): Ok, now make me babies with tails.

Him: We have six babies with green tails.

Me: People babies not lizard babies.

Him: Ohhhhh. PEOPLE babies....

Me: Wouldn't you want a little Paul?

Paul: I'd rather have a little Cat.

Me: Really? You'd want a girl?

Paul: No, I'd want a little Cat. Like, a little piece of Cat... (chewing on my neck.)

Me: Pervert! (laughing)

Paul: Besides, we unofficially were making babies this weekend anyway.

Me (stunned): WHAT?! We WERE?!\

News to me!

~Astrophe