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Bathroom scales are born liars. I mean, seriously, they just lie there on the floor, snickering.
My first mistake was buying a brand new, high-tech set of scales that exceed the weight limit of my old scales. Never do this. It's one of those laws of nature that when capacity increases, so does volume occupying that space.
My second mistake was curiosity. I had to know. So despite the fact that bathroom scales are known liars, I stepped on them.
The problem with owning scales with more numbers is that if the digits are there, the little electronic sadists spinning the dials inside the contraption want to use them. They want to use them on you.
I stepped. The scales blinked a number I hadn't seen in a long time, and frankly, never expected to see again.
But there it was, displayed on an oversized digital screen.
(Note to scales makers: Is it necessary for those numbers to flash that large and that brightly?)
I never knew that scales go giggle. With such evil overtones.
Even resting one hand on the sink didn't help much -- especially since the toothpaste tube already was there. I'd never seen a stream of toothpaste shoot so far.
The scales just kept snickering. The toothpaste missed them completely.
It hasn't helped that last month, I joined the Tribune Chronicle's Fitness Challenge weight loss competition to benefit charity. After four weeks, I'm almost back down to my starting weight.
"Burt," the Challenge administrator said after crunching the latest numbers. "Does your team not understand what weight LOSS means?"
I do, I do. But the scales are villainous. With a mean streak that doesn't end. I've lost, I'm sure of it. The scales lie. I'm sure of that, too.
True, my shirts are tighter, but I figured it was the laundry. Why not? Colors disappear in the wash. I figure size fades, too.
My bathroom scales suggest another, obviously fictitious explanation.
Sure, there have been all those crazy medical reports touting that more Americans than ever are overweight. Maybe other Americans are, but I am not. I just haven't grown tall enough yet for my weight.
Besides, I watch far too many exercise shows to be included in the hefty crowd. Once, I almost performed one of the stretches. But I found the remote control and didn't have to move around anymore.
I did discover my running shoes beneath a pile of pillows and candy wrappers. I wasn't going to be suckered into that again.
The last time I took a walk through town, I noticed a special on hamburgers at one place and two-for-one pizza next door. Then there were the hot fudge sundaes at the ice cream shop, and the meatball sandwiches at the sub place on the next block.
I took another lap to make sure I hadn't missed anything. I drove the third lap. And made frequent stops.
It was shortly after this that I had to buy the new bathroom scales because the old ones ran out of numbers.
I have learned from my mistakes. I now know that for my health and sveltness, I must never take walks. Also, I should avoid bathroom scales. They're liars.
— Send accurate scales to Cole at burtseyeview@tribtoday.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.