Friday 15 April 2016

Scales of injustice..

Rivalling my dislike of the camera is my dislike of bathroom scales.
For many years I went through a number of styles: glass, or pebble finish, automated digital, or old-fashioned. As none of them told me the news I wanted to hear, I decided our bathroom floor wasn't level, so it wouldn't matter what I stood on, or what shelf I held on to. (You mean, I'm not meant to do that?)
Last year I bought a jumbo-sized Salter's bathroom scales with a dial in pounds/stones and Kilograms that you can see perfectly easily without leaning like the Tower of Pisa and artificially inflating the poundage. Marvellous. Stable, and enough room on it to bring a friend. I now love my bathroom scales apart from its seriously dull message that I am still incontrovertibly overweight.

I will have mentioned in earlier posts that Dearest has taken to the streets, not in a Mafioso type of way, but rather in an attempt to counteract his sedentary life-style. I have 'til now, turned down his early morning invitation to join him. However, the silent admonishment of the Salter's dial has meant that I too, have to rise and shine.

Much to my surprise, I so enjoyed the invigoration of an early morning stomp yesterday, that I actually walked into town and treated myself to some Kitchen scales.
A friend of mine has given me a recipe for bread, and some healthy energy bars. I felt that the crappy old Weightwatcher scales that I have struggled with for the past ten years would not be up to weighing pounds of flour. So I have treated myself to yet another Salter's product : a most compact scale upon which you can stick any bowl or jug you like. Fantastic. Back-lit too, so I do not have to grapple with reading glasses.

                                                I know I am sounding like a product promotion for Salter's (did I                                                           mention the make?).
Nice scales...
 However, on the cusp of christening my new kitchen aid, it does make  me reflect how one set of scales, sadly, will be communicating with the  other and will be telling tales.
 Not behind my back, but under my feet...
Naughty scales...


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