****Disclaimer: As always, this is a comical view on everyday issues that happen to people (or at least me) who have had weight loss surgery. Please do not take this seriously. I just want you to enjoy it and hopefully finish with a smile on your face****

I know I am not supposed to weigh myself every day. But let's be realistic here. I'm fat. I've been fat most of my life. The scale has been the end all be all of weight loss or gain. It's hard to not get on it every morning with the hope that the numbers have gone down over night. It's not that I'm just watching what I eat and exercising. I had the majority of my stomach removed. I eat 400-600 calories a day (if that), and I exercise every day. Because of all this, I expect the scale to go down every day. But much to my amazement, it doesn't.

I've already written about how the numbers just don't add up. So, I am not going to address that again (even though I know my math isn't wrong!!). Now I am going to talk about our unrealistic goals when it comes to the scale. Or at least my unrealistic goals.

I am a reasonably intelligent person, who is of sound mind and body (most of the time). I know that stalls happen. I know that when you shock your body in the way that I did three weeks ago that my body will fight back. It's going to hold on to as much fat and water as it can as it thinks I'm starving it. I also know that I am gaining muscle which is leaner than fat. Notice how I didn't say that muscle weight more than fat? That because 1 pound equals one pound, no matter what the pound is of. One pound of fat is equal to one pound of feathers. So, for all the people who say this, please be aware that what you are saying is wrong. And, it really irks me. Not that you should care if it bothers me or not. It's not like you're ever going to meet me. But, even with all this knowledge, I still wake up every morning, pee, strip my clothes, exhale, and get on the scale. Isn't it funny how we've learned over the years to do all these little things in an attempt to have the scale read a lower number? And, since three days after surgery, the number on the scale hasn't changed. It's even gone up a pound or two at times. And to be honest, this has caused me more stress than the surgery has caused my body. I don't know how to handle the lack of movement. It's like I'm at a dance and everyone around me is moving and grooving and I am just standing there. I'm not even tapping my foot. It just doesn't make sense and I should be thrown off the dance floor.

This has caused me to have some unreasonable thoughts. Am I one of those people that surgery doesn't work for? If so, I'm going to be pissed. Now, not only will I not lose weight, I still can't eat food I like. That would just be a cruel, cruel joke. What did I do to ever deserve this? Am I just doing something really wrong? I am not sure how that's possible as I get my protein in and I do everything I've been taught in all my classes. I've even gone as far to think that maybe I am loosing too much weight that the scale can't understand what is going on so it stays on the same number just "because it can" . I know none of these thoughts make sense. I know I am a fool for thinking any of these but I just can't help it.

I am so obsessive about the number on the scale that I have begun to weigh myself throughout the day. Anytime I go into the bathroom, the thing is calling to me. It's like I'm dealing with a possessed electronic device and I've given into it with out any thought or use of any common sense. I swear I hear the voice from the "Exorcist" saying, "Come to me Tricia. Come stand on me. You know you want to. You can do. It only takes a second." Has the scale become my new obsession now that food can no longer be my anchor? And, if so, I have to admit that it's not making me feel as good as pizza, ice cream, or potato chips did. It actually makes me feel worse every time I use it. Then again, the food did the same thing but it took longer for me to feel bad about eating it. Now, I get the bad feelings but non of the reward (aka the good tasting food). So, after great thought and much consideration, I have decided that the scale is the devil. It is the down fall for so many of us. Even the ones who haven't had surgery. And with this knowledge, I've decided to take drastic measures to remove the temptation from my life.

So, I have thought about taking a sledge hammer to it. But there are two major issues with this approach. First, I don't own a sledge hammer and if I did, I am not sure I could life it. Aren't they really heavy? Second, after thinking about how much it cost and how much money I would just waste, I just can't do it. I can't waste money so "willie nillie". I don't' know about all of you, but I don't have loads of cash just hanging around. Because of that, I have to take care of the things I do own and there is no reason to damage something I know I will need again in the upcoming months. So, I plan to give it to my husband and have him hide it. That way, I won't waste the money that I don't have to waste nor will I end up in the hospital with my back going out from the weight of the sledgehammer that I don't own. This way, once a month I can pull it out and weigh myself.

No, my plan doesn't really "fix" my obsession. But it does take the thing that I'm obsessed with and remove it from my daily routine. I just hope I don't' turn into a "scale fend" and start ripping the house apart while screaming, "where is it? I know it's here somewhere? You don't understand, I need it. It's not bad for me. I promise to just use it this one time." But for some reason, i see this happening. Because, it doesn't matter what the addiction is, we all find ways to make it sound less bad for us.

So, I am going to head to the bathroom and pick up the scale and hand it over to my husband. I know he will be able to handle my craziness when I need my "fix". So, here I go, I am just going to march in there, pick it up and hand it to him. After I pee, strip my clothes off, and exhale just one more time. Come on, doesn't every one need that "last fix?"