Sunday, Jan. 27, 2002
Dear Diary:

    I could be thrown out of the sisterhood for revealing this deep dark secret, but here goes:

The top secret way to get a woman naked.    Guys, if you want to get a woman naked, the fastest way to do it is to put her on a bathroom scale.

    Oh yeah, that cereal ad has it exactly right. Put a woman on a scale, let her see a number she doesn't like (and really, who amongst us is EVER happy with the number we see, ladies?) and the woman will immediately begin to discard bits of clothing.

    Every Friday when I have my weigh-in at my gym, the first thing I do is kick off my gym shoes. If the door on the weigh-in room door had a lock � well, let's just say the mirrored walls of the weigh in room would be reflecting a full moon and I never go to the gym at night.

    So it is with some hilarity that I watch the spousal unit weigh himself.

    I am married to a man who, until a few months ago, has never, ever had to worry about his weight. It hasn't been easy to live with someone who never has to push his plate away because he has been blessed with a combination of good genes and a very active lifestyle. Until a few months ago, that is.

    I noticed that he was getting a little um, er, ah fluffy around his waist around the end of our five weeks in Australia. He's been pretty much out of work since we came back, and the fine, finishing carpentry he's been doing around our house doesn't give him much of a physical workout. I didn't say anything, because I thought that maybe I was imagining the thickening waist.

    At the same time we noticed that our cat, Zubby, has also been getting somewhat fluffy, so to get Zubby's weight we had Paul stand on the scale holding him, then get on the scale without the cat.

    Zubby weighs a whopping 15 pounds.

    The spousal unit is seven pounds heavier than he's ever been in his life.

    So now he's learning how it feels not to be able to eat anything he wants. It's something of a shock, let me tell you.

    He's a disciplined man, though, so he's well on the way to shedding the weight.

    I think.

    See, the thing is, for quite a while he wasn't consistent about how he weighed himself, eh.

    Get me on a scale at the gym, and I will always be wearing the same clothing so I know I'm starting from the same place. Get me on a scale at home, and let's just say that NOTHING comes between me and that final number.

    The spousal unit, on the other hand, at first got on the scale wearing a wide assortment of clothing--one day it might be jeans, shirt, sweater, work boots. Another day it might be jeans, shirt, sweatshirt, no boots � you get the idea. So it took a while for me to get him to wear the same things so he would always be starting from the same place.

    (He refuses to get on the scale nekkid, proving yet again that there are some chasms between the genders which are simply too big to bridge.)

    Now that he's consistent about what he wears, when he gets on the scale once a week or so, it shows a small weight loss--until this last week.

    He got on the scale and complained that although he'd been watching what he ate he'd actually GAINED a pound. I looked over at him and saw that he was holding his mag light in his hand (a very heavy flashlight, the same kind cops use).

    "Um, sweetie, what do you think that flashlight might weigh?" I asked casually, fighting very, very hard to keep a straight face.

    He set it on the ground and the numbers on the scale changed.

    "Two pounds," he said, sheepishly.

    Bingo.

    I figure that if he keeps up with watching what he eats, in about two weeks he'll be back to his old fighting weight. The bonus here is that now he finally realizes how hard it is for the rest of us, the folks who CAN'T eat everything we'd like. It's given him a new respect for how hard that can be, eh.

    And there's even a bonus bonus--courtesy of the spousal unit's weight gain, I have revealed The Super Secret Never Fail Method To Get A Woman Nekkid. If the candlelight dinners, the wine, the chocolates, the romantic poetry aren't working, you just bring in the heavy artillery -- The Bathroom Scale.

    Um, just don't tell the rest of the sisterhood I spilled the beans about that, 'kay?

--Marn

Old Drivel - New Drivel


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She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


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