Just after Christmas, I decided that I should trim down a tad - having hit the 85.5 kg mark on my occasional weigh-in at the local shopping centre 'your height & your weight for $1' machine.
So I cut down on the cafe lunches, and walked Jasper (10 y/o black lab) more often, and generally avoided french fries wherever humanly possible, and reduced my wine intake. Slightly.
And after a couple of weeks, I was thrilled to find when I weighed myself on my 15 year-old spring compression type crappy bathroom scales - that I had dropped to 80 kg!
And then - I thought that 5Kg was maybe .... a bit too much. So I eased up on the french fry moratorium, ordered the chicken and pine nut quiche more often, had a few more glasses of vino, and walked Jasper no more than 5 x a week.
My weight stayed the same: hop on the old spring-loaded bathroom scales - kaching! 80Kg. Fab! At this point I conjectured that I must have had some early 50s metabolic gear change which allowed me to eat anything I damn well wanted. Bring. It. On! Whoo-hoo!
Yeah - fish & chips, little citron tarts, chocolate, more wine!!! I felt great. I looked in the mirror after each bathroom weigh-in - I was certain that I looked fabulous. Not quite the chiseled Adonis - more Henry Moore sculpture. But I told anyone who'd listen - I lost 5kg!! And I feel great.
Until .. .I went to my GP for a check-up. Hop on the good doctor's scales and ... "You seem to have put on, um, a bit of weight, Phil. You're 86 kg - last time you were 79."
Whaaaahh ???? Turns out my sudden weight loss was due to my elderly faulty bathroom scales showing wayyyy under the actual reading.
So, they went out in the rubbish bin a week ago.
Today I walked Jasper to the vet and hopped on (while the receptionist wasn't looking) the dog scales - 85 kg. A modest drop. And yet ... somehow, I don't think I'll ever give up french fries.
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