I adore small appliances/tools. I love those little gadgets that are handy dandy fun to use. Mostly ones that belong in the kitchen (hence the word "appliances") but I also like the battery injected, electrically operated tools that make life fun. Baby Skils ... my itty bitty powerful power drill still makes me giggle each time I pull the trigger and watch it spin a screw into place.
It is likely a good thing I have a small house. If I had a larger kitchen, my budget would hate me. As it is, I tend to go a bit crazy.
Take for instance my latest gadget purchase ... a scale.
A. Scale.
Actually two of them.
First I recently treated myself to a small kitchen scale. I say small because it really is small, yet it has the capacity to weigh larger items. Win! Plus, it has a button that lets you remove the weight of the bowl or plate you are using to put the item(s) you are weighing. It is so fun. I spent an evening measuring pecans ... just because I could.
I told you ... it's an appliance addiction.
However, then I got carried away with myself and bought a bigger scale.
A human scale.
You know ... one of those flat things you stand upon and, while it seems to scream, shout and berate you, it is really just giving you the facts ... the pounds you weigh.
I've never owned one.
I'm overweight. I know this. It is a fact. I don't need a flat piece of metal with numbers flashing to tell me. I have been overweight pretty much all my life.
Quick side note: Before we head down a direction that I am no planning to go ... no ... my weight does not define who I am, it is a part of me. Look at me ... the whole me before judging. If you judge based on my weight, you don't deserve to know the wonderful that is actually me. I'm just saying.
Today I am talking about the fact that I have purchased and brought into my home ... A. Scale. To weigh things. No ... not true ... it is to weigh ME.
It's kind of unnerving. Took me two days after setting it up (aka. removing it from the box, putting in the batteries and then setting the thing on the floor in the bathroom) to even step on it.
Whose idea was this to purchase this item?
What possessed me to do this?
Again ... my weight does not define me.
However, my knee does rule my life by how I get around and it needs to likely be replaced. This can't be done if I am too heavy for the doctor to do a procedure.
*sigh*
So, with the first of the year, I once again jumped on the bandwagon of removing weight from my body. I've done it before. Lost enough to reward myself first with a fun triple ear piercing and then lost enough to earn a pretty ankle tattoo. So, I know I can do it again.
And I bought a scale.
Scales make us accountable.
I hate the word "accountable/accountability".
I also hate the word "perception" but that is for another day's thought process and scribbling.
Back to my accounting scale ... and who would have thought I'd ever utter those words ... it is sleek and silver and, because I was fearful that I had not only gained back all of the weight that I had worked hard at removing from my body several years ago, but added to it, I bought the super one that would weigh three small people at the same time and still have room for a couple of cats and dogs.
Note: There's a big smile on my face when I reflect on the fact that I had NOT gained all the previous lost weight back to my body. That I was not as heavy as I assumed and that I could actually adjust my goal. That was a cool moment. I will admit it.
I bought a scale.
This morning I began using it. I stepped up upon it, waited for the beep, stepped down and jotted down the number.
And because accountability is part of the deal this year, I have now written about it.
I am writing this to let the one or two people who read this know it.
Because ... you know ... accountability doesn't work if no one knows about what you're doing ... with the scale ... that you just purchased ... and used ... like me.
I did it.
I bought a scale.
No comments:
Post a Comment