Old Scale Was a Big Fat Liar
The following conversation with Old Scale took place in my closet (where Old Scale was banished following the purchase of New Scale) this morning following my first weigh-in on New Scale.
Chelle: The hell Old Scale? A five-pound difference? Five pounds? You’ve been lying to me all this time? Why?
Old Scale: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Chelle: Wha?! What I’m talking about? I’m talking about the fact that New Scale just informed me that I weigh five pounds more than what you have been telling me. And don’t you even try to tell me that it’s water weight, either because he measures that, too.
Old Scale: And you choose to believe this New Scale character over me, your friend, and the scale that saw you through the thirty-two pound weight loss? The scale you have visited every Friday morning for the past three years? You’re going to believe that new guy?
Chelle: He’s scientific!
Old Scale: Whatever. I was just telling you what you wanted to hear, anyway.
Chelle: I hate you.
Old Scale: Don’t kid yourself, baby; you’ll be crying for me the next time New Scale tells you something you don’t want to hear. Crying. For. Me.
Chelle: Whatever, Old Scale. You bastard.
And I thought my relationship with New Scale would be heavy on the hate.