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Jewish World Review
Oct. 19, 2012/ 3 Mar-Cheshvan, 5773
Do these scales make me look thin?
I stepped on the scale and saw the unexplained weight loss nearly
every woman dreams of. I weighed 57 pounds. I knew that couldn't
possibly be right, so I stepped on it again.
Sure enough, 57 had been a bad read. The scale said I actually
Technically, I should be traveling in a car seat. That's me,
the one in the driver's seat of an SUV strapped in a pink Cosco
juvenile car seat with tilt recline and the side beverage cup holder.
The last time I weighed 58, I was probably in the fourth grade.
I knew all my states and capitals then. I loved converting fractions,
wrote a poem once a week, was a jump rope champion, had legible
handwriting and enjoyed recess twice a day. My mother did my laundry
and cooked all the meals and I could still overpower my younger
brother. It was a good year, one I wouldn't mind revisiting.
It was nice to weigh 58 again. It made me feel light, inside
and out. My clothes fit better. My jeans felt loose. I felt healthier.
More energetic. More vibrant. Maybe I'd swim a couple hundred meters.
I've never been a swimmer, but why should that stop me?
Yes, it did occur to me that the digital scale was on the fritz,
but I immediately put that thought out of my mind. Why let practicality
ruin a wonderful start to a beautiful day?
We went out to lunch later and I had biscuits. I don't eat biscuits.
I don't even like biscuits, but when you have unexpected weight
loss, you feel entitled to eat biscuits.
Pass the butter.
I had ice cream, too. Not much, but a little. It's been months
since I had ice cream. It's on my banned food list. But I was eating
ice cream now.
As I poured a little chocolate syrup on the ice cream, I wondered
if I should call the doctor so he could update my medical records.
Maybe my cholesterol numbers had taken a dramatic dive, too.
This was the most excited I'd been about a failed household appliance
in ages. I was disgruntled when one of the lights over the stove
went out. I was downright surly when the hot water heater turned
into Old Faithful. Don't get me started about the combination digital
clock/radio /iPod anchor with the alarm that goes off every day
at noon and can't be shut off. But the digital scale falls apart
and I have a new a skip in my step.
Later that night the husband walked to the 'fridge, opened the
door and casually said, "I weighed 75 pounds this morning."
"Really?" I asked. "I only weighed 58. You should go on a diet."
We ordered pizza.
Life was good for a few days. We ate what we wanted, pretended
we were both grossly underweight, and then it all came to a crashing
We bought a new scale. We're back to reality. The memory of biscuits
lingers. In more ways than one.
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© 2012, Lori Borgman
Richard Z. Chesnoff
Frank J. Gaffney
Victor Davis Hanson
A. Barton Hinkle
Judge A. Napolitano
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Debra J. Saunders
J. D. Crowe
Ask Doctor K