The bathroom scale was not my friend last week. I had gone for a long time without getting on it and when I finally did, I was convinced it must be wrong. I remember a period of time last year when I obsessively weighed myself each day — something I rarely do — and it seemed at that time, that every day I gained a pound. A slippery slope indeed. My husband, who has no empathy when I stress over four or five pounds, cheerfully reported with a wink that at that rate I would be up to a thousand pounds in less than three years. I’m staying away from the scale for a while. My clothes fit the same and the scale is not good for my psychological state of being.