And on the 7th day he said "thou shall weigh yourself"

I weigh myself about once a month. Sometimes 2 or on a rare occasions, after 6 months. So when I do, I gotta make it count. I have to have a ritual.

It all begins days before. I must conquer the water weight demon. What do I do. Drown myself in water. I drink so much water that if I was in Titanic, Leo would be alive. I drink and drink till Kate remembers “oh Leo… theres room for 2 on this piece of wood that I selfishly have been hogging”.

Next, its fiber. Prunes. Fruits. Placenta. I don’t know, I just wanna poop. I eat anything and everything! Eat more carrots than at KY jewelers.

I need to get on the good side of the God. I know what to do. I shouldn’t, but I must. Its for the greater glory of my weight. I must conquer the creepy bro at the gym.

We know this bro. He’s the one that spends 2 hours doing nothing but checking out the girls and working his upper body. And anytime a girl makes the mistake of looking in his general direction, he walks up to them. Creeping them. I must make the sacrifice of creeping the creeper. It must be done. When he walks up to the girl, I grab the weights he’s been lifting and sweating over and start licking them and start rubbing his Olympic bar between my thighs and making eye contact with him. I do it until he leaves the poor girl alone. Small sacrifice to make the weigh scale God happy.

Then the day before the weigh in arrives. The big day. D day. This is the night we conquer all. This is the night we don’t even goto gym in worry of sore muscles retaining water weight. This is the night we pray!

“Dear God in heaven, who pwns the weight scales. You rock. May all the proteins someday belong to you and the curvy girls realize the difference between curvy and chubby. May you pwn our weight scales like Paula Deen pwns butter. Give us this day a number that saves us from water retention, starvation mode and the bulk. And cut me some slack when I act all nub and do the happy dance. You dig it though that its only because I love your help right? Please don’t make me big headed with all the success and make lame posts on the forums when I’m too pissed off at somebody for disagreeing with me. Give me the strength to know the right from wrong and the ability to mock the haters till they send me hate PMs. And if you could keep NSA from spying on my creeper posts, that would be great too.

Amen

PS. Did anyone ever told the Backstreet Boy Why?”

And then I rest. I know what is tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day we dine in hell!

Morning time. 3 years old nephew wakes me up “I want some ice cream!”

“No, not till I fight the battle with scale demon, my boy. Now, step aside as Uncle needs to take a dump!”

With fear and envy in his eyes, the child steps aside and puts on cartoons. I walk into the restroom. Screams of a battle comes from the bathroom, shaking the very foundation of my home.

“HNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!!! OH GOD THE FIBER! IT HURTS! HHHNNNNNNNNNGGGGG!!!!”

With the toilet now clogged, I take on the next challenge. I scrub myself in the shower. I scrub so hard that my brown skin magically turns into that pale white girl from Twilight. I need to wash off anything that could add to the weight.

Then the shave. I shave my manly beard and stach. Then the hair. All hair. I’m bald like Michael Phelps now.

Then I get out of the batroom. No towel. Don’t need it. Lay naked and turn on the fan. Air dry myself. Because towel drying might add some weight to me.

Then finally comes the part of weighing myself

“oh God this is it. This is the big dragon boss. Oh God help me!”

2 lbs lost.