Two nights ago I was transferring from the A train at the Hoyt/Schermerhorn subway stop. I saw a friend thirty feet away. Normally, I would've walked up to her and said hello. Or, I would have waved. I did neither. I tried to hide behind a pillar.
My attempt to hide was unsuccessful. I was caught and spent the entire 8 minutes of our conversation nervous that she would find out the contents of my shopping bag.
When I got off the G train we shared together, I looked down at the top of my shopping bag. The item hidden within wasn't visible. I don't think my friend was able to go all Clark Kent and see through the bag's lining. That I'd just purchased a scale was my secret.
It's programmable! It remembers my height and age. And it measures body fat! Whoo! Standing on a glass scale isn't as scary as I thought it would be. The glass isn't going to break. I left it in my bathroom for three hours until I accidentally kicked it with my toe.
Because most of my apartment is carpeted, I've decided to place the scale in my kitchen, tucked under the wine rack/wooden counter. Nothing says "don't eat that fifth cookie" like spying the corner of a scale on your way to the cabinet.
The directions that came with this Weight Watchers scale (manufacter by Conair) suggest that one shouldn't weigh oneself more than once per week, especially when trying to lose weight. That seems like healthy advice, and a good way to avoid growing obsessed with dropping pounds. "But there's a new toy sitting on my kitchen floor" I want to exclaim. "How can I use it just once a week?"
(perhaps the most boring new toy in the world)
