The Scale and I

I walked down to the botica on the corner today to weigh myself. There was a delivery guy sitting on the scale, but he moved when I indicated I needed the thing. I carefully removed my jacket and shoes to avoid skewing the results. And the scale read…  57.8 kg. AAAaargh!  That’s not good enough. It’s better than 57.5, I know, but still… not enough. But there was something weird on the printout; these devices measure your height as well, and it had me pegged more than 10 cm shorter than usual, so I decided the scale was having a bad day, remembered there was another botica down the street in the other direction, and decided to go try their scale instead. Theirs was the same brand, only newer, so I went through the same routine there: remove shoes and jacket, put my s./1.50 in the machine, and wait for the beep. This one had my height correct, and weighed me at 58.1 kg. I like that number better, so from now on I think I will use their scale instead. Probably that’s unscientific, and also cheating, but it makes me feel better. It’s only a difference of a third of a kilo, but every decimal point counts, right?  I’m working on my 30th week. All the other pregnant ladies have gained twenty pounds by now. I don’t want to be the only one who can’t manage ten!