I have an old analog scale, inherited from my parents. It sits in Dorje’s room, mostly gathering dust.
I’ve never worried much about weighing myself, but in my own mind, I’ve been 80kg most of my adult life, and, more recently, since becoming “fat”, moved up to 85kg. The analog scale is not particularly accurate – I can lose 5 kg in 30 minutes, but still, on the rare occasion I stood on it, I never went above 85kg.
The friends I stayed with in Switzerland had a bathroom scale. All digital, shiny and new, measuring to the 100g. I decided to give it a try. Since I’d walked up a storm in Berlin and Prague, and felt a little lighter than when I arrived in Europe, I imagined something like 83.9kg.
No. 91.1kg it claimed! So much for Swiss precision… Clearly one of those scales handed out as free marketing for a weight-loss supplement.
After a few days of alpine walking, on the morning I left, I braved it again. 90.9kg! Pfft. No more accurate than before.
I rushed to weigh myself on the old scale when I got back home to Cape Town. A sprightly 75kg! Much more like it.
Still, it may not be coincidence that I’ve jogged around the field outside a few times the last couple of days. Yes, jogged. I don’t think I’ve jogged since school – it’s been all sedate walking or all out action since then. And have obviously managed to put on 5kg of pure muscle, weighing in at 80kg two days later.
I don’t really know how to explain the increase to 82kg since I started writing this post though… Perhaps those 7-minute workouts I do every few weeks have a delayed muscle-building effect?