Bathroom scale

Many many years ago, Tim and I bought a bathroom scale. I don't remember why. I guess it's a handy thing to own. Maybe I was pregnant. In any case, one day we woke up thinking it was time to buy a bathroom scale. So we did.

There are many options in bathroom scales. But in the end, we found that the perfect bathroom scale was not the one with the ability to track my weight change over a year and give important life messages ("STOP EATING ICE CREAM!"), nor was it the atomically accurate model that tells me my body fat index, my cholesterol count and my horoscope. The perfect bathroom scale was the cheap model that was off by two pounds every time. Because it showed me as two pounds *lighter* than all those other scales. Totally amazing marketing. I bet they sold a bazillion of those models.

Anyway, sometime in the passing years, I stopped using my bathroom scale. I shunted it into the corner under the sink, or into storage, or finally, into the basement bathroom that only gets used if we're watching a movie and I'm drinking too much Coke and I just can't hold it anymore and press pause just for a second while I run into the basement bathroom. When this happens, I'm usually in too much of a rush to see what I weigh while I'm at it.

Yesterday, however, I was in the basement bathroom checking out the shutters in there (which we just installed a few weeks ago) trying to decide if I still want them upstairs (I do). When I noticed my friend the bathroom scale. I stood on the scale and noticed I had gained five pounds. Huh. Then Tim walked by and pointed out that the scale had been adjusted to measure 10 pounds heavier. Huh? (I bet it was my sister's 2-year old). Which means I've lost five pounds.

(Which means I am under stress again. Shocker.)

Then Tim took his turn on the scale.

Marriage is a big step. Deciding on the right man to marry is a big decision, and one that I did not take lightly. Eleven years ago, when I was making this serious choice, I had discovered that Tim was pretty much everything I needed in a man. Smart -- check. Attractive -- check check. Open minded -- check. But for all his positive qualities, he did have two very major flaws.

Major flaws.

Number one: he didn't like to cook. I didn't like to cook either. How were we going to eat? After some serious reflection, I decided that we could probably overcome the cooking issue by taking turns at the painful task.

Number two: he weighed five pounds less than I did.

Tim's weight has been the bane of my existence. How embarrassing, to weigh five pounds more than your husband. When I would bring this up, he would point out that I am two inches taller than he is, and I eat a lot more food than he does. Which is true, but doesn't help.

Anyway, when one decides to get married, one takes their partner for better or for worse, no matter how much they weigh. I realized that Tim's weight was something I'd just have to live with, and couldn't change (you know, given the hating-cooking thing). And so I did. And I never regretted that decision, even a few years down the road when we brought the bathroom scale into our lives.

So last night, I stepped off the bathroom scale and Tim stepped on. And do you know what? After all these years, he actually weighed five pounds more than I did! HA!

They say that the person you marry will never change. That you should learn to live with their flaws. To overlook the bad and accept them and love them for who they are.

Well, my friends. I am proof positive that spouses *do* change. Annoying flaws do disappear. Ten years later, under debilitating stress on my part and a lifestyle that doesn't actually involve ever leaving the house on his part, we have reached the point where there is only one thing seriously wrong with my husband.

He still hates cooking.