So yesterday morning I walked the green mile into my bathroom to face the Shitbird conversation with more than a bit of trepidation. I probably deserve a prolonged stint on the naughty step to think about what I ate between between Sunday and Tuesday, but from Wednesday onwards I’ve been following the new Weight Watchers flex programme, and I mean following it to the letter.

I didn’t know what to hope for really, so I kept my fingers crossed that the needle didn’t go in the wrong direction, and technically it didn’t. Except it did.

I should probably set the scene…I was already muttering under my breath as I limbered up for the Shitbird Shuffle, because it’s honestly a pain in the ass. My bathroom floor is made up of hundreds of little mosaic tiles, and being a very old cottage there’s not a wall or a floor that’s flat or true, so I can honestly hop on twenty times and get twenty different numbers. It’s a pantomime that I go through every week.

Obviously I’ve always picked the lowest number, which more often than not is offered up by the tiles starting three black squares to the left of the bath. It might not be one hundred percent spot-on but it’s all relative isn’t it, and the numbers I’ve recorded have been a fairly indicative route map of my journey.

The thing is, I’ve just never been sure how accurate the Shitbird really was. The scale in the Kingdom of Pain for example always seemed to weigh a good seven pounds more than mine.  The Asshole voice convinced me that was God of Pain’s dirty trick to make me work harder. The other thing is, it’s not unheard of for mine to offer me a range of 8 to 10lbs between the lowest and the highest number, depending on how long I keep it going and how many times I jump on and off.  So there’s no wonder it pushes my buttons, right?

Anyway, as I set off dribbling the scale around the bathroom like some kind of square glass football, it suddenly occurred to me that if I lifted the Shitbird thing into the bath, it might be a bit less volatile. For the love of God why didn’t I think about doing that before? It turns out I am officially a genius. For the first time ever, it doesn’t matter how much I nudge it up and down with my foot, it stares back at me with the same number over and over again because it’s on a completely flat base. I know! The only downside is the number is higher. By quite a lot.

I think I prefer the wonky number to be honest. Actually, I nearly had a fucking cardiac arrest when the Shitbird thing tried to tell me I’d gained 11lbs, especially since I already knew I’d lost weight this week.  That said, at least going forward if it’s consistent I get a number I can hang my hat on, right? Under the old weigh-day waltz system I’ve lost half a pound this week, not gained, and I’ve still lost the same amount overall. I was just heavier than I thought I was when I started in 2015, and I’m heavier now than I thought I was yesterday.

I’m quite impressed that I’m not freaking out actually. Half of me wanted to carry on with how I’ve always done it just to preserve the not-quite-as-shit-as-that number that I’ve been reporting against, but it’s only a number, right? My arse didn’t get smaller or bigger just because I weighed in the bath, I’ve just recalibrated and I’ve got more to go after that’s all. It’s no biggie, and it feels right that I bring out my dead so I can completely draw a line under everything that’s gone before.

I’ve got one week exactly before I hit Christmas, and I’m going to make it count. Shall we go for three off?  🙂

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