Tuesday, May 19, 2009

On the subject of "Writing to scales."

Hello, scale. You have been nice to me. Last year, you fell faster than the stock market. I liked that. Um, the scale, not the stock market.. that stunk.

Now you are "trying to make an adjustment" and have those numbers go back up. I mean the scale and the stock market this time. For that I am mad at you. (the scale, not the stock market.)

For months, people have been glowing at me. Or is that gushing.

"Oh, you have lost weight."

"Oh, you look so good."

"Oh, Mr. Clooney."

Okay, maybe not that last one, but people have been much nicer and more complimentary.

I have found it easier to bound up the stairs at work (um, when I feel like getting to work.) I have found it easier to get to sleep (now that I take Ambien again.) And the half coke/half diet coke mix at Chipotle has been working like a charm! So much that I now have three of them before I am finished, and that's after I have stopped and had one at the local Circle K to wake me up in the morning.

And I am writing more than ever. At least, that is what I intend to do, but something is always coming up like life or work or going to the gym. Wait, I haven't been to the gym so that's not the reason.

I looked at the calendar and it lies to me to. It says I am old now. It says I am more than half way to 90 and that I could go all Jack Bauer cliffhanger any minute. Damn it!

So, Mr. Scale. I am talking to you. I am tired of you mocking me, and I am going to attempt once again to prove you wrong so you will once again feel so right.

I have a premiere to get ready for... September 11th (lovely day for a premiere, but I don't forget it.) I want to take the stage happy with my looks to make people laugh with me instead of at me.

Will you be my friend again? And by that I mean a real friend, not one of those people who wants to Facebook friend me after hearing I was a slim guy who turned out to be portly.

Okay, I am leaving now. I see a pair of warmups and running shoes in my future. I'll see you later.

Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger

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