girlfiend

First, a guest entry from Mix.

I have hijacked girlfiend’s blog once again.

I am at home recovering from weight loss surgery, which if you were wondering is a bitch. I got a new scale that also measures your percentage of body fat.

Being the ever so supportive friends they are, Boyfiend, Girlfiend and The Fiendling came to visit me. Within minutes of being in my place girlfiend noticed the manual for the scale. In all fairness I should have seen that coming. Anyone who spends anytime with girlfiend will notice that she reads EVERYTHING. Signs, flyers, or even a coupon dropped on the floor. It ‘s actually pretty amazing when you pay attention to it. She seems to file these little bits of information away for later use. I never realized how unobservant I was until I noticed her superpower.

Upon seeing the manual she immediately started reading and before she got to page two she was off talking about body fat. Boyfiend sprang to his feet to weight himself and find out his body fat, but having not reading the book, did not know how to program. Girlfiend to the rescue, boyfiend returned to the living room to watch the fiendling, and girlfiend headed to the scale. After a minute of beeping she had the scale programmed with her height, sex, and age. She returned wearing one less shirt. I asked her why she took off her shirt, and she said she didn’t want the shirt to impact her weight. Then she mentioned that she also took off her pants and contemplated getting naked.

After reading the body fat percentage chart she concluded that both hers and her husband’s body fat is normal. I then mentioned that a clear sign of her being obsessed with this is that she was thinking about getting naked in my place to find out what her weight and body fat was.

Fully aware she replied, “This is why I don’t own a scale.”

I hope no one ever buys her one.

Look, there’s no question I’m obsessed with my weight, but really, as soon as I can once again fit into my Seven for all Mankind jeans, the ones that make my ass look great, I’ll be fine, even if I weigh more than I did before. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I just want to be able to fit into my pants. And I mean fit. No muffin top or cameltoe. Squeezing doesn’t count. And the naked thing? I weigh myself at the gym. I have no interest in taking off my clothes to get a completely accurate weight there. Besides, I doubt it is accurate. Mix’s digital scale has decimals. When I took off my top layer I was down .2 of a pound. I just wanted to see how much difference my pants would make. But I didn’t.

Boyfiend’s even stranger than I am. He weighed himself before and after he peed. He lost a pound.