This summer, I vow not to step on a scale unless medically required to do so (Yeah, that means you thyroid doctor, my ass is yours on Wednesday. Not one word!) My new plan??? Pants. I will measure my weight in pants and pants alone. A pair of Old Navy khaki capris circa 2001 to be exact. They’re outta style and they’re faded. I can’t even wear them in public anymore because the zipper slides down at will. But they are my skinny pants dammit! They’re more than just pants, they’re a milestone. They’re the pants I bought after I lost all but 3 lbs of my pregnancy weight. They’re a size 4 (yeah, an Old Navy 4…but still). The first time I wore ‘em, I strategically “forgot” to remove the tape strip with the size down the front leg. I wanted the world to see what I’d done! They hang in my closet now as an ongoing reminder. A challenge, if you will. They dare me to try them on. If the zipper closes….triumph! If not, time to put down the honey buns and reach for the Carbmaster yogurt.

Frankly, I think my Triumph Pants are more accurate than Lo-la my bathroom scale. I can’t really cheat with the pants. No leaning to the left or balancing by the pinky on the towel rack. These hips don’t lie and dead pants tell no tales. In fact, I’m taking the pants to the thyroid doctor. When they ask me to step on the scale, I’m waving the pants in the nurse’s face. “I couldn’t fit into these at all last year. Now I’m 2/3 of a zip from closing them. That’s gotta be at least 5 lbs Nurse Ratchett. Put THAT in your chart and smoke it!”