So after the last weigh-in for the weight-loss contest we’re doing at work, I stalled.
For like a week, I was plateaued in this three-pound-or-so range, and couldn’t break out of it.
It was frustrating.
And then, finally, progress!
Big losses (more than a pound) two days in a row!
Like, three pounds in a two-day period!
On the second day, I’d gotten my haircut.
I mean, like, a serious haircut. Probably the most substantial haircut I’d ever had.
And it occurred to me —
What if that day’s weight loss was really just the haircut?
Could I have had a pound of hair cut from my head?
Heather and I debated it. She pointed out that her pony tail couldn’t weigh a pound. I replied that her pony tail was less hair that I’d had cut. She said that it wasn’t, that her pony tail was most of the hair on her head. I disagreed. Sigh.
Then I realized, that if there’s one thing I’ve learned from romantic comedies in the mid-90s, it’s that the human head weighs eight pounds. (If there’s another, it’s that you should show me the money.)
And there’s no way the hair I had cut off was an eighth of the mass of my head.
So I must be losing weight.
(I’m still not above the idea of getting another drastic haircut before the last weigh-in, though.)