After I gave birth to our second child, I was…well padded. Insulated. A bit roly-poly. “Healthy”. Storing calories for milk production. Not anorexic. Slightly over my wedding weight. Chubba-chubby. And it did not go without notice on the part of my husband. Of course, he didn’t just say, “Hey Kel, you are turning into a porker. You may want to throttle back on that 4,000 calorie diet.” No, he could have, but instead he got me a very special birthday present exactly one month after I brought baby number two home from the hospital. Was it clothes that fit? A spa day? A couple sessions with a personal trainer? Nope. Nope. And Nope. It was a scale. Not a scale for the kitchen. Nope. A bathroom scale. For me! Wow thanks! I think I would have preferred a swift punch to the gut. It would have bounced. I can’t remember my immediate reaction. It has been blacked out with other traumatic experiences. I likely went and ate something to make myself feel a bit better.
After the dust settled, it became clear that: 1.) a scale in not an appropriate BIRTHDAY gift for a hormonal postpartum woman. 2.) Scales can be really fun. I turned into a scale addict. I mean not for my personal weight, but for differences. For example, I would walk into the bathroom, weigh myself, pee, and weigh myself again. FUN! Weigh in before and after lunch. Between going to bed and waking up. Who hasn’t taken a monster dump and thought, “that had to be a five pounder”. I have been researching this, and bm’s don’t weigh nearly what one might think. I suppose the delivery system has something to do with this misjudgment. What random household objects weighed became a fascinating point with me. My purse. My computer. My neighbor’s cat. Just whatever! I would weigh it. This research may seem in vein, but should I ever become a final contestant on a game show and need to guess the weight of…a stack of dishes, I am totally leaving with the Chevy Malibu.
I consider myself a pretty reasonably level headed individual, but for all the fellows out there, if you buy your significant other a massively shitty gift, you will pay for it at least ten fold. I, for example, went and birthday shopped for myself after that and I was very generous. Also, here five and a half years later, my husband is paying for it in another way. Gotta love the blog!
Contrary to my initial reaction and my genetic makeup, I love the scale! I guess that is just further proof that despite menstruating and birthing children, I am clearly not female.
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