Old Reliable?

Dearest Rachel –

There are some days when I don’t have a whole lot to write you about, and way too much time to do so. So I’ll fill a lot of space just complaining about the fact that, for all the things that I may have done in the day, there’s nothing particularly special that I haven’t told you about before. I can’t count the number of letters that I’ve sent you to this effect, and I’m sure you’re tired of them.

This isn’t one of those.

There are other days when so much is going on (or has gone on) for such a long time that I’m pressed for time, words or presence of mind to describe it all to you. Tuesday (which I wrote you about yesterday) was one of those sorts of things; for instance, I didn’t mention the fact that, by the time Daniel and I sat down, one of the two tables was completely filled, so we sat down at the virtually empty table, only for the guest of honor to seat herself across from us when she eventually arrived. Make of that what you will; for an extra to be joined by the star of the show, that would be a significant aspect in the bit player’s narration.

And then, there are these little moments that, if I reflect on them for too long, I begin to think to myself that I could make an entire essay out of this one tiny little event. Indeed, the only constraining factor is time; between walking with Lars and hanging out with Daniel for a change (not sure what Logan was up to yesterday evening, but it allowed the two of us to catch up a bit, despite not exchanging the same level of dialogue as between Lars and myself), I had to surrender the idea of writing about this as a second letter to you yesterday, and just finish it up this morning from a few hastily-scribbled notes. It’s weird to admit it, considering the sort of hijinks I could get up to with the power, but I think that writing you would now be at the top of my priority list if I were able to stop time these days, when I have this sort of momentary thing that comes to mind to tell you about.

It’s not all that strange, really; life often turns on a moment’s notice. One could even say the fact that I’m here writing you stems from a singular moment in time. At least, I rather hope so at this point; the thought that you might have been lying there in paralyzed agony for five hours is so much worse, in a way, than that you might have felt a momentary snap of pain… and then have it all over with. It may have been sudden – and I rather hope it was – but having to linger in that state for an extended period is horrible to contemplate.

So yes, it is sometimes the shortest moments that become stories, although most of them, thankfully, aren’t nearly as awful and tragic as that one. Most of them, in fact, are somewhat comic in nature, especially in retrospect.

And with that scene being set, let me see if I can explain what happened yesterday morning, and why it might amuse you to hear of it.

***

You’re already well aware of my efforts to lose weight; part of the regimen Lars put me onto was keeping track of it on a daily basis. Numbers guy that I am, I took to charting my progress, which we’ll get to at the end of this story; the point is, that daily (and in some cases, several times daily) measurement has given me impetus to do one thing or another in order to bring that number down, including noting the things that work… as well as those that work against me.

Now, after Tuesday’s party, and having taken no opportunity to exercise since Monday, I was under no illusions regarding what I might see when I stepped on the scale. I was going to be heavier than the previous morning’s mark of two thirty-one. The question was… by how much?

This was the moment of truth. I stepped up, the digital display spun as it does, before blinking and presenting the number:

Two thirty-three.

Given how much pizza I ate the night before, I was actually rather pleased with this number; I had expected it to be higher. But whenever I weigh in, I always step on the scale two in order to confirm the number. Let’s do this a second time, I thought, just to be sure.

Two thirty-six.

Well, this is disappointing… and in more ways than one. Not only is that much higher than yesterday morning, it calls into question either of these two readings. I’ll need to step on the scale a third time to decide which of these measurements are accurate.

Two thirty-three point five.

Okay, well… that seems to suggest that the first number was closer to reality, so that’s the good news. The bad news is that this is the third number thrown into the mix; rather than confirming one or another of the previous results, it’s only managed to muddy the waters that much further. Surely a fourth attempt will give me a number that will buttress one of the previous weigh-ins, right?

Two thirty-seven.

This was actually heartsinking for me to read out. It’s just so disappointing to have to conclude that I consumed enough to gain six points in the previous twenty-four hours. Yes, I’d had two meals in that length of time – the evening one being particularly large, and I won’t sugarcoat it (because that would increase my calorie intake that much more) – but mere existence burns calories, too, plus there’s the fact that after stepping on the scale time after time, thing is the only readout that’s been so high. I refused to acknowledge that this one was accurate. Back on the scale I went.

Two thirty-five.

Okay, now this is just getting ridiculous. Five attempts, five different data points. I am not gaining and losing weight in mere seconds from one weighing to the next. And yet, this scale – this old reliable unit that I’ve been using to get my measurements from each day in order to have a consistent baseline to work with – cannot seem to determine how much I weight this morning. Honestly, at this point, I feel like I’m running out of unique data points within the range; sooner or later, it’s going to have to give me a matching pair of numbers, right?

Two thirty-six.

There; that’s a matching set. Not great, but not entirely out of line, either. Once more, just to be sure.

Two thirty-six.

Okay, that’s as definitive as I can expect at this point; I’m going to have to go with this, whether I like it or not. Lars would ask me about it when we would go walking later on in the day, and I needed a number to fill him in with. This way, I not only have a number, but quite the story to go with it.

***

When I relate the story to him, however, he tells me not to worry about it. Snapshots are meaningless, he insists; what truly matters is seeing the overall trend in sequence. And what does that trend look like?

Yes, it’s definitely bouncing up and down more than it used to, but that’s more because I’m checking more frequently nowadays – not just first thing in the morning, but after working out (either at the gym or walking with Lars), since I need to wash up afterwards. Interestingly, after walking with him yesterday, and having lunch after that, I checked and I still weighed the same two thirty-six – which is odd, since usually I add on a pound after our meals together (even five miles of walking, over the two hours it takes us to do so, doesn’t generally burn off enough to make a difference). So yesterday morning’s weigh-in ordeal, after all was said and done, may still be in question.

But no matter; the trend is downward – even if it might be slowing just barely – and that’s what counts in his book. No fad diet attempts, no overdoing it when it comes to starvation or indulgence, and only a slightly punishing (if that isn’t an oxymoronic combination of words) exercise regimen. Slow and steady, and continuing the race downward.

I just hope Megumi notices soon.

For now, though, I’ve got to get on with a new day, honey, so keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.