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My Weighing Machine IS Faulty

Last Sunday morning, I was in a jovial mood when I stepped on the machine but by the time I got off it, say 15 seconds later, I was quite the opposite.

That darn machine is broken!

It has to be! If not, why on earth would I be two kilos heavier than I was 18 years ago?

I doubt it was the 5 (or was it 7?) scrumptious buffet lunches/dinners I had in the past three weeks. I seriously doubt it was the cheesecakes and chocolate cakes which I bought whole instead of in slices. Neither would I think it was my experiments with granolas, scones, compound butters and pineapple tarts have anything whatsoever to do with it. I don’t!

It is just that my weighing machine IS faulty. Period.

But I like to hedge my bets a little. Just a little, you know what I mean?

So I went grocery shopping with a very different list and ended up with for dinner.


Roasted chicken with orange and avocado salad. Throw in chopped cucumbers and cilantro. Drizzle my go-to salad dressing. Stir through and chomp away.

I envisage that there would be many more of such meals to come before I do step on another weighing machine again.


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