We should never weigh ourselves naked

Why?

Nothing even remotely positive can come out of it.  That's why.

I've been dieting lately.  That means no more Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream (right out of the half- gallon container) in front of the TV at night (or in the morning, or, what the heck, around noon).

No more Milk Duds at the movies.  No more yada, yada, yada.  You know the drill.

Now, just when the stretch-marks appear to be going in the right direction (Don't kid yourself, you know what I mean), a new problem pops up.

Weighing yourself naked only leads to despair.

Take my so-called life (Please!) as an example:

Several events occurred in my life in rapid succession that set this diet misery in motion.  Like the split-second difference between a baseball player's foot thud on first base and the pop of the ball arriving in the first baseman's glove.

Or like this:  My blood pressure went up ... I was feeling lousy ... It was necessary to check the weight limit on a ladder before changing the air conditioner filter in the attic ... Shortness of breath ... Longness of ice cream sessions (See Blue Bell mention above) and this:

The B-word, bequeath, was mentioned in my own home.  It was quite innocently uttered.  Since my grandparents are long gone and my parents have moved on to their reward as well, I had no choice other than to realize that the B-word had some kind of connection to me.

I don't have much mind you, so I was flattered that I own something someone else deems important enough to want.  But I don't plan on doing any major bequeathing for a long time.

So, I went to the doctor for my first annual physical in about a dozen years and found out what I already knew.  Lose some weight, buddy, if you want to hang around on the planet for a while.

That first rattle of the doctor's scale weight -- sliding, sliding; add next counterweight, sliding, sliding -- made me mad.  Even then, I couldn't help thinking about my brother's favorite weight scale joke:  "One at a time, please."

That brings us to the never weigh yourself without clothes observation.  Since I was visiting my doctor every couple of weeks for a while, I got serious about my diet.

Bright and early every Sunday morning I weighed myself ... naked.  I was making good progress, too, except for one thing.  Being weighed by the doctor's assistant (scale weight rattle; sliding, sliding ...) presented a problem.

Polite society does not allow weighing in the buff in public.  Not even in the name of science.

It does, however, allow for us to weigh between three and six pounds more when fully clothed.

Bummer.  But at least the view's (somewhat) less disturbing.

My weight goal?

Let's just say it has something to do with seeing my feet.

(Man on scale cartoon courtesy of Clipartof.com)