Scales and epic fails

Okay, I've rethought this whole travel blog thingy. If I only blog when we're travelling, then I'll only blog a few weeks out of every year, which is not very impressive blogging stats. And since I've always said that my favourite part of travelling is the build up to it (counting sleeps and calories for weeks before you get near passport control), then I figure I can blog ABOUT travelling, even when we're not actually travelling. Excellent logic! And hey, it's my blog, and I'll write what I want to. Okay, sorry Poodle, it's OUR blog. Just like the camera, iPad, iPod and other gadgets are all ours. (*rolls eyes* No they're not. They're MINE, MINE, ALL MINE!). Err, I might have issues with sharing...Note to self: chat to therapist about this.

Now that we have that out the way, it's time to talk about packing for travelling. I have a huge issue with this, because I always try and pack too much. I don't know what it is about heading out into the wild blue yonder, but give me a case, and I'll try and fit the kitchen sink into it. Along with all the pipes, toolbox and a plumber. Crazy, considering I don't do dishes. Or plumbers. Ever. That's Poodle's job :-) The dishes, not the plumber. Some of you are starting to feel sorry for Poodle now, aren't you?

Anyhoo. Most of my packing attempts have been epic fails, because my luggage is always overweight, and I don't end up using a quarter of the shit I've squashed in.

The one thing that always gets packed first no matter where we're going or how long we'll be away is... can you guess? It's that one thing that I can never, ever do without. No, it's not a raincoat. Nope, not a GPS either. Wrong, not malaria pills or my TripAdvisor application. It's my scale. Yip, a good, old fashioned bathroom scale.

Why, you may ask? Excellent question; and I'll tell you. It started in Standard 9 (Grade 11 for the whipper snappers), when I went away to Cape Town for 2 weeks with a friend and her family. Did I mention that this friend and her family were all extremely skinny people? And ate and drank like Welsh Coal Miners with the munchies? They spent the holiday shoving food at me (and also going to nudist beaches, but more about that another time) and were very offended if I mentioned the word "diet". So, naturally, I gained 10kgs in 2 weeks. Seriously.

My mother did not recognise me at the airport when I arrived home. And that was the start of my life-long attachment to my scale during times of travel.

To be continued....