If you’d told me three years ago that my poor, long suffering psychologist would still be listening to my woes at the end of 2018, I would have said, No way! (Possibly in much stronger language.) But here we are, 42 months later, and I still grace her couch on a regular basis. And not just for the lols.
See that picture? That’s my toes. Pointing at a blank spot. A blank spot where my scales have sat since we renovated the bathroom about 12 years ago. (Before that they sat somewhere else…) For as long as I can remember, I have weighed myself first thing every morning – day in day out. Like clockwork. A special, comforting routine. I’d climb out of bed, empty bladder, strip naked, stare at fateful numbers.
