Don't worry, it's just butter weight

You may be wondering what I'm doing with 8 pounds of rettub on my head. The picture is symbolic, you see. I love symbolism--I'm deep like that. I'm also crazy. The kind of crazy who gets 8 pounds of butter out of the freezer in order to give you, my reader, a visual image of how much weight I gained in a mere three weeks. No, I didn't gain the weight on the top of my head (though that would have been a good reason to invest in a wardrobe of top hats--finally!), but I'd rather not photograph the area where the pounds actually settled. This isn't that kind of blog.
Here's how it all transpired:
I went to Weight Watchers on Saturday, April 5th and weighed in at 182.8. On the 11th we drove to Sara's house, far far away, for a visit/vacation. (Before you start blaming Sara for making me fatter, read on--I know it's your tendency to blame her for my problems, but you really ought to get your facts straight). We spent a lovely 10 days with Sara and her family, enjoying the sights and eating. I ate so much. Sara tried a few gentle reminders along the lines of, "How about we both count points tomorrow!" and
"Are those pants really splitting at the seams?," but I was not to be dissuaded from my chosen path of sugar and gluttony. Fast forward to my next WW weigh-in on April 23rd (yes, I could have gone to WW on vacation, but that would have made me feel guilty. Guilt is uncomfortable). Dum, dum, dum, dah! I weighed 190.6. Sorry to say this wasn't a fake weight. You know, the kind you get when you're bloated, or you had a really big meal the night before, or you're carrying 400 quarters in your jeans pockets. No, this was real, genuine body poundage.
What now? I've heard eating less and moving more works for some people. I may have to give it a try. Meanwhile, I think I'll go put the butter back in the fridge before it jumps into a bowl with flour, cocoa powder and eggs and becomes brownies.


Pssst...Are you wondering if I tried to balance the butter tray on my head rather than hold it there with my hands? Of course I tried that! And I was rewarded by painful butter-box-corner wounds on my shoulders and legs.