Anorexic Scales Syndrome

When is a thing..not a thing?

This is something bothering me at the moment, because the Nazi Scales say I've put on a shedload of weight in the last two weeks. But nobody I dare to ask seems to think it looks like I've put on that much weight, and I don't feel as though I've put on that much weight, and my clothes still fit like I haven't put on that much weight...So what, in this scenario, is truth?

And what, in that scenario, actually matters? Oh - I should say, my bloods are fine - 5.8 this morning after dessert and champagne last night AND...y'know, being drunk and all...forgetting to take my diabetic medication.

So I look fine, I feel fine, the clothes are fine, the bloods are fine, but the Scales have anorexia. Do I freak the hell out and get all sorts of demented, or do I send the Scales to the Priory for self-image therapy?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying "Ta-dah! Don't care any more, it's the Scales..." I'm going to re-instate my perspex walls tomorrow morning, at least mainly - d mentioned to me today that I've gone about the Aristotelian experiments wrongly - one leading to another, and another...and the eventual dissolution of all discipline, given what I think we've fairly established is my addictive nature.
"Spread 'em out honey," she advised earlier today. "Don't be scared to have stuff in the house, but don't feel you have to eat it. Have celebrations...when you want them....when you deserve them..."

So pehaps not perspex walls. Sugar walls, perhaps.
Maybe that's the way forward - feel as good as I do, work as hard as I should, and tweak Aristotle's principles for my own circumstances. And as for the Scales?

Well Hell...the Scales will do their thing, because it's all they can do. And I'll see what they say, and move on as I can.