For better or worse, I’ve developed the habit of weighing myself on a fairly regular basis. We have a decent digital bathroom scale and, when I’m unencumbered by weighty accessories (i.e. clothes), I’ll hop on it to see what the ‘ol “Fatass Factor” is, as it’s affectionately known around here. I probably do this once or twice a day on average and, thus, I’ve become pretty good at predicting how much a hearty lunch will add, or how much I’ll drop after a long bike ride or a particularly satisfying session on the loo with a good book. I can typically guess my weight to within a half pound or so which, among other things, has given me a fair degree of confidence in the accuracy consistency of our bathroom scale.

Which is why I’m absolutely flummoxed by a phenomenon I’ve noticed: I lose weight when I shower. Not a lot, but enough that I’ve come to wonder about it. The pattern is surprisingly consistent; Weigh myself before: “216.5 lbs”, after: “215 lbs” or “215.5 lbs”. The difference is typically a half pound to a pound. I’m really puzzled by this. You would think that, if anything, a person would weigh more, right? You’re wet after all. But, no, apparently somewhere in there I’m sloughing 16 ounces of … well… stuff.

Think about that. 16 ounces is a can of coke, or a large latte. Go into your local Starbucks and say, “I’d like a Grande mocha, but hold the mocha, Instead, can you fill that up with dead skin, sweat, and dandruff?” (What else could it be? Hair, I suppose, but as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I have less and less of that).

Ewww.