“You must be mistaken.”

I wonder how many people say that to the nurse I saw on Monday.

“Go in Room One, take off your shoes, and come out and step on the scale,” she rotely commanded.

Prior to this OB Gyn check-up, my friend Molly and I walked in the Indiana Dunes – in spite of frigid, biting below-zero windchills that sliced into our habitual catch-up time. We are committed, or maybe we should be committed.

With not-yet-warmed red hands, I stepped into Room One, shivered, and reluctantly took off my boots, my ski pants, and my heavy wool sweater. I considered getting naked and donning the hospital gown before getting weighed, but I was too cold.

I met the firm nurse in the hallway and stepped on the scale. She measured my height as the digital screen scrutinized my weight.

“Oh,” she said. “You lost an inch.”

Kindly, I replied, “You must be mistaken,” and stepped off the scale to establish compassionate eye contact with her.

“No,” she said. “You’re 5’3″.”

“I’m 5’4″,” I corrected while maintaining my convincing gaze.

“Step back on. Stand up straight,” She conceded. No chit-chat from this lady. I stepped on and stood tall.

The stern voice said, “You are 5’3″. You were 5’4″ at your last visit.”

Where the heck did that inch go?

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While meeting with Dr. Cheryl Short (I am not making this up), she instructed me to take D3, drink milk, eat dairy, and snack on almonds. I do this daily – with joy. I now believe I would be 5’1″ if I was an almond hater.

Bring on the nuts.