A spoonful of narcissism never fixed a thing

There’s this holiday health program at work that gets promoted each year around this time.

You weigh in once a month, November – January, and earn points for maintaining, or even – bonus! – losing weight.

It’s offered to extend accountability and encouragement in living a healthy life style.

Sounds super, right?

Kind of.

I joined the team that organizes these health events a few years ago. Being passionate about being healthy, I jumped at the chance to help others to do the same.

Typically I’m all about participation. Except when it involves weighing myself.

At the location where I work, I was on “duty” to weigh and log participants confidentially.

It seemed like the perfect out. As the “weigher”, there was no one else to come by my office, pressuring me to get weighed. I was that person.

The morning of the weigh-ins, I had forgotten all about it. It was a cold morning, so I threw on several layers, including riding boots and leg warmers.

Running later than normal, I didn’t have time to make my usual breakfast. I was also conveniently craving a Starbucks coffee, so I picked up a croissant and a ….let’s just say it was not a skinny latte.…

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