The Weigh I Am

I drove the lonely drive of the formerly damned this morning. I drove across town in the early morning with the sun just beginning to tease the heat soon to follow.

My destination was the only place in 100 miles (outside, I assume, of truck weigh stations) that has a scale that I can get a read on.

So, as I've mentioned before, it was there I went. I walked in as I always do, which is to say: unannounced. I was told once by a woman who used to work at the old folks home where in the facility their scale is located. Since then, when weighing, I just walk in, head to the room, weigh, and take my leave.

It does add an admittedly surreal quality to the whole experience. An experience which, when you have a body as big as mine, is (like virtually anything I do in public) already fairly surreal. It often seems as if one of the guests on a very special "Human Oddity" episode of Maury Povich has escaped the television studio in search of sustenance.

I digress.

I walked in to the senior center and, as expected, for whatever reason, every staff member I encountered at any point within the stale smelling labyrinth seemed to think I had an acceptable reason to be there. It's pretty weird frankly; I have never, not once, been asked what I am doing there. It seems a nice place, but I'm kind of glad that no one I know lives there - you know, what with the big fat bearded men they allow to wander the place.

So I walked in as usual and successfully made my way to the room with the scale. No staff or anyone stopped me from getting there because I am apparently TOO BIG TO FAIL.

I stood on the scale and saw a 10 pound loss.

Wonderful.

Here's to a good tomorrow and another great week!