I live out of a duffel most weeks, so my weigh-ins happen wherever the hotel puts the fitness room. This morning, in a windowless gym next to a broken elliptical, the scale read 199.8. I laughed, then weighed my duffel to make sure it wasn’t playing tricks. It wasn’t.
Most of this trip has been the usual road-food Tetris: grilled chicken, double vegetables, sauce on the side, and a protein bar in my laptop bag for the 10 p.m. hunger window. No big speech. I just stood there in socks and thought, huh, the two-hundred era might be over.
I know one reading isn’t a parade, and hotel scales are basically opinionated furniture.
But I’m letting myself enjoy it until my home scale argues. For those who travel constantly: do you count hotel weigh-ins at all, or wait for your usual bathroom floor?