gasp!

Do you ever weigh yourself, having forgotten how much you actually weigh, and require a few seconds to catch your breath and remind yourself that the number is accurate and you're not nine months along, ready to deliver a seven-pound baby any day now?

Life was a bit stressful around here for a while so Jack and I began eating our way to comfort, which involved ice cream before bedtime (with Hershey's chocolate syrup and a brownie buried underneath the ice cream), cookies with our burgers and fries for lunch (have you tasted those freshly baked cookies at Burger King?), and other generally not-so-healthy eating with the accompanying lack of exercise or anything that involved more than remote control button pushing after slogging through another long day at work.

Then a couple of weeks ago, the sun started to shine again (figuratively, of course, because it is only June), and we decided it was time to get back to taking care of the only bodies we have.

However, I'm beginning to wonder if I should continue my every morning weigh-in. After avoiding the scale for a few months, I'm not sure if I like it when I am startled awake as our talking scale announces my weight in her snooty unidentifiable accent.

It always takes me a few seconds to focus and remember that even though the number is bigger than I remembered, it is headed in the right direction. But that scale is so dang sure of herself. Don't you ever want to just give her a little stomp?