Epic Burn

So, I've been feeling good about my weight losses lately.  Without even trying hard the other day I stepped on the scale Thursday morning after a morning of moderate weightlifting and a standard breakfast of eggs and coffee I step on the scale and see 230.0 smiling up at me.  Well, this morning I step on the scale before even eating breakfast and see 241.3.   I was not a happy camper, to say the least.
So, inevitably my inner bitch comes out at over the day, and while we're getting ready to do something I have to pull a "honey, does my ass look big?" or "am I still pretty?" moments.  I want the wife's assurances that I haven't gotten neck rolls in the past 96 hours. I even do the chick thing and sigh while turning to her as if we've discussed this subject ad nauseum and frankly I'm tired of talking about it:


"OK, honey, I'm having a self-esteem crisis. My weight's back up to 240, but all my 34 waist pants are still fitting like they did when I was 230."


To her credit, she even acted as if she was the husband who was quite frankly sick of my shit.  She just looked me square in the eye and in her best "you know damn well _____" voice, she shot at me:

Well, honey, quit stepping on the damn scale three times a day.


Not to be deterred form my estrogen powered pity-party (I must have eaten some soy at some point today) I did the classic chick thing and acted as if she hadn't even spoken:


I just don't get it. I don't think I've put on 10 pounds of muscle in the last week, but my pants are fitting the same if not looser than last week when I was 230.


Yes, I was honestly dumbfounded that a 26 year old active male's body weight could fluctuate 11 pounds based on highly active days (I worked out 3 times on Wednesday) as opposed to off-days (0 workouts and feasting on Sunday).  To be fully honestly, I was in no way, shape, or form fishing for a compliment, but the wife was in full-on husband mode and sick and tired of my crap, much less coming home from a full day at work to find me lounging on the couch, watching TV with the house a mess and no idea of what to make for dinner.


Maybe you should just stay away from the scale the week before your period.


Uff-da, that hurt.  It was a good underhand hammer blow right to the nethers that at that time must have resembled a Ken doll.  A slight bump but no dick, to be sure. Only at this point did I realize that I was in full-on Bitch Mode and in need of immediate course correction.  We had some pizza for dinner, and I wasn't going to prance around complaining I felt all fat or bloaty later, either.


Goddamn, I need to get some more deadlift and shooting in.