My scale must be broken

My scale must be broken. Perhaps I should take it back. Or check the battery. Or give it a good shake. Or throw it against the wall. Because clearly...it can not be displaying an accurate reading.
Seriously...not a single pound of weight loss this week? (Granted, my official weigh-in day is tomorrow, but I doubt it reads all that different tomorrow as opposed to today.) Not even a tenth of a pound. If I could look back on this week and see where I have eaten cheese fries or not worked out, I would understand. But I worked out...every.freakin.day. And while I may have had one too many cokes at work, I didn't drown myself in cheese fries or the thousand other fatty foods I wanted to immerse myself in.
I hear this happens. The time where you are trying but nothing is happening. The time when beads of sweat mean nothing when it's weigh-in time. The time when you just want to take that rice cake and heave it across the room and trade it in for a bacon cheeseburger. When you, quite literally, want to take the scale and throw it against the wall and then step on the tiny little pieces that remain. (And if it wasn't a high-priced digital scale...I totally would). This sucks!
And I know...it's just a phase. This too shall pass. That is what I hear. Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.
P.S. Screw you scale. I won't quit. And I will not give into the bacon cheeseburger you are apparently trying to tempt me with.