The Nazi Punch In The Face

OK, so this goes beyond playfulness.

When you've had a heavy week, you sort of know what to expect, and brace yourself accordingly.
On a week when you haven't been that bad, and have started exercising again after not having done so for a while, you don't expect miracles, but you don't expect a punch in the face - which is pretty much what I got when I stepped onto the Nazi Scales this morning.

17 stone 11.75!

That's an increase of either 2.25 pounds, 2.5 pounds, or 4.5 pounds on last week, depending on which of last week's readings you take as accurate. What's more, I snuck in a sneaky weigh a couple of mornings ago, and it had me at 17 8.25. I have not deserved to put on 3.25 pounds in the freakin' meantime.

"What gives?!" I asked the scales, rather hysterically, this morning.
"Fuck you, you never talk to us any more, just get your lardy ass on, expect us to give you some love, and put us away again. Where's the demented neurotic we used to know, who'd be on us a couple of times a day, huh? You're just phoning it in these days, so fuck you! 17 stone 11.75! See how you like them apples!"

I'm not entirely convinced, and, like all whinging gits since the dawn of time, am thinking of having a do-over tomorrow.
Am also thinking of starting back on my longish walks in the morning, weather permitting. If nothing else, they build up stamina and give me additional calories in my daily allowance before I start to "add" weight, as it were. Again, this would be a much more attractive prospect with two working ears, but still...can't wait around for that to right itself or the Nazi Scales will decide I'm 20 stone again!

Humph...