In early 2006, almost 6 years ago, I was living with my friend Jimmy. I had a scale I often didn't use that stayed in the kitchen most of the time. It was stepped on occasionally.
This was the greatest scale of all time.
It had been broken for quite some time, and I knew this but didn't want to admit it. The scale, no matter what you did, told you that you weighed less than the time before.
This was a great trick. It's not like it made you 20 pounds lighter than whatever you were before, I mean you could gain weight in that scenario. No, it simply kept telling you that you were losing.
This was awesome. I could tell I was gaining weight, but my scale kept saying I was losing pound after pound. I was living the golden life of deniability.
Then one day it got absurd, and I began losing 10 to 15 pounds every 5 minutes. It became a game to see how little we could weigh after eating another bite of Taco Bell. I gave up on the scale, went to the store, and purchased a new pink one that proclaimed to give money to some women's breast cancer thingy, but was really purchased because it was the cheapest one there was.
I remember Jimmy weighed in at 227, and I weighed in at 235, and much to my dismay Jimmy actually lost weight after that by jumping up and down and parading around the room while doing some obese victory dance.
"Man, I need to lose weight. I need to get serious, and it needs to start right now," I thought to myself.
5 years later I had gained 50 pounds.
Within a few months I lost 50 pounds. I am now back to 235.
Which means I need to lose weight. I need to get serious. And I need to do it right now.
P.S. Yes I am aware I have yet to write about the couch to 5K, but that's cause I had an actual story to tell with 235. Maybe at 230 I'll have nothing to say and can tell that story, which is still ongoing 3 days a week.