It's going to happen at some time sooner or later.

Everyone is sitting around, laughing, talking, eating and enjoying each other's company, and then it happens.

You politely excuse yourself to the &#8220powder room.”

Now, I know you men folks don't call it that, but just hang in here with me.

This is a very serious subject of a delicate nature.

You go into your host or hostess's rest room and let Nature take its course, all the while, looking around at this fixture or that picture or the color of this wallpaper or the scene on that shower curtain.

And then you see it.

You know you shouldn't.

But you do it anyway.

You see those bathroom scales and they start calling your name.

&#8220Regina, Regina, you know you want to know what those last three hot fudge sundaes have done to youŠŠ”

I know I'm in someone else's home, so why is it I feel compelled to step on their bathroom scales and check my weight as if I can't wait to find out when I get home?

Or am I the only one who's ever done this?

If you haven't, you know you're lying.

The worst time, however, was when I stepped on one of those fancy digital scales- you know, the kind that starts talking to you - out loud.

All the time I'm saying, &#8220Shhhhh!!”, it's announcing to the world, &#8220Your weight is 5, 345 pounds.” And now everyone in the living room not only knows how much I weigh, but they know that I got on someone else's scales.

Those digital scales remind me of the tinfoil robot from the ‘60s hit TV show &#8220Lost in Space,” that would swing its arms and shout, &#8220Danger, Will Robinson, danger, danger!”

That's the response I seem to get from those digital talking scales.

Or, you could come across the silent kind that just digitally shows the magical number.

The only problem is now I have to stay in the bathroom long enough for the numbers to finally go away, or the next person will not only know that I was on the scales but will also SEE those magical numbers.

Oh, no. I can't let that happen.

I took Samson, my 21-pound tomcat, with me out visiting recently. Even though he is well aware of his weight, he participates in this same weighty phenomenon as his owner. Actually, I didn't know that he did that- at least not until we heard the sirens go off, the lights start flashing and the big &#8220Tilt” sign come up.

Needless to say, I had to buy them a new set of bathroom scales.

Regina Grayson is managing editor of The Luverne Journal. She can be reached at 335-3541 or by email: regina.grayson@luvernejournal.com.