Wednesday, February 20, 2008

To Toledo And Back In One Day

Dear Children:

People often come up to me and say, “Poppy, when is the best time to weigh myself?” My answer is always the same: “What do you want the scale to tell you?”

Personally, I can’t pass a scale. There’s my new gee-whiz body composition monitor occupying a place of honor in the upstairs bath, the work-a-day digital guy in the downstairs can and the mighty Toledo at the gym. Those are the ones I use most often.

Scales often take a little time to warm up. As such, I recommend stepping on and off a few times. Reckon an average or pick the best result. It can’t hurt.

I weigh myself as often as mental health permits but I have only one official weight for the day. That reading is at the gym after a workout that included heavy perspiration and heavy respiration. It is also after a shower and before deodorant. It’s a harmless conceit because it’s taken the same time every day. Weigh yourself in a disciplined way.

People also come up to me and ask, “Poppy, my scale has been mocking me. Should I replace it?” By all means: If your scale is not telling you what you want to hear, you are duty-bound to replace it.

One of the great fallacies in weight loss is that scales deal in brutal honesty. They most certainly do not. Knowing pounds avoirdupois is of limited utility. Listen to what your scale is saying.

If you hear: One at a time, please; Yep, those are your mother’s thighs; Someone has been hitting the cashews again; That’s apple FRITTER not APPLE fritter or Nobody loves a Fat Ass you own a malevolent scale. It means you harm. Send it to Perdition.

Scales that traffic in non-judgmental, supportive and uplifting truth are the kind you want. They say things like: I know life has been stressful lately; We’ll pass on that large strawberry pineapple milkshake next time; Somebody is mighty proud and Let’s think about alternatives. These scales, strangely enough, are not the spendy ones. They look like all the others and sport the same integers. One does need to scope them out, though. Hold one up to your ear and listen for signs of transcendence or despair. Pick the one that helps. Leave the hurtful ones for the skinny people.

I finished listening to Johnny Cash: American Recordings. It was worth the effort. Today I’m looking forward to Andrea Bocelli: Sacred Arias. There’s this guy at the gym that asked about my iPod and was interested in how it worked. It turns out we share an affection for Rosemary Clooney. It was my pleasure to set his feet upon a right path of MP3.

Much Love,

Poppy

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