Well, this morning I finally mustered up all of my courage and hopped on the dreaded weighing scales of doom after the annual Christmas blow out. I stupidly thought that if I made myself anxious enough that I might burn off a few extra calories. But alas that was not to be the case.
It’s presence in my bathroom had been menacing since the day after St. Stephen’s day. I hopped on and hopped off again quite swiftly. I forgot that the best way to weigh myself is to suspend myself slowly from the shower curtain until I reach my desired weight.
Afterwards I was greeted by Buzz doing a dance on my bed which was unusual behavior for him at the best of times. He is normally quite chilled unless food, his favorite toy or a walk are on the cards. He was merely trying to cheer me up. Bless. Or at least that is my analysis of the situation and I am sticking to it.
I eventually figured out that he had become accustomed to this apparatus that I stood on weekly and that it was obviously some kind of mood machine. No shit Sherlock. He could tell that when I stepped off it, I was either elated or deflated (or inflated if weight had been put on). The latter being the case this morning. Anyhoo, here’s to next week when the mood machine will put a smile on my face.
That’s all for now