Sweet Justice

With the holiday season in full swing, out comes the abundance of food and drinks.  It’s a tough time for anyone trying not to double their BMI in the course of six weeks.

And then there are those people who can eat whatever they want, do no exercise and never gain a pound.  You hate know those people, right?

I’m not one of them.  But my husband is.

Well, he was, until very recently.

With his blessing, I can tell you that my 5’10” husband has consistently weighed between 151 and 158 pounds since he was twenty years old.  When I say that he was always able to eat anything he wanted and do zero exercise without suffering any consequences, I’m not exaggerating at all.  He’s a really thin guy and he eats like three grown men.  {I mean, not in a disgusting, gluttonous, or competitive eating way — he just has a really big appetite.}

I, on the other hand, have worked very hard for every pound I’ve ever lost and also seem to possess the unique genetic ability to gain weight merely by visualizing junk food.  I have my weaknesses but, on the whole, I eat a balanced and healthy diet.  I work out at least three times a week, often more.  Just to avoid gaining weight.  Losing any is a bonus.  Or a fluke.  Or a stomach virus.

So, you’ll forgive me if I feel a little giddy about my husband’s recent dose of metabolic justice.  It’s about time, I say, to live like the rest of us.  After all, he has made it to his mid-40s without ever once having to think about his weight.

To be clear, P has not fattened up.  He looks great to me.  But, at his recent physical, he was surprised to learn he had put on about ten pounds, even as he had noticed his pants were feeling a little snug.  And he was pissed.

I want to offer him my empathy, because I know how it feels to gain some weight.  But I can’t.  I’m too busy thanking the forces of nature for finally giving him a constitution like most of us mere mortals.

But I know I should support him.  So I did a few things.

First, I waited until he left the room to raise my fist in the air in some sort of gesture that expressed both joy and victory.

Second, I put together a short list of things he may want to change if he’s looking to drop a few pounds. Having lived with him for seven years, I have some suggestions.  No more of the following:

–Adding these items to my grocery list:  Ring Dings, coffee cake, Entenmann’s donuts or the ever-broad “just get us more snack food.”

–Calling my entire dinner the size of an appetizer and then mumbling about how I must be starving.

–Snorting in disgust at the widely accepted idea of substituting beef with leaner meats.  This includes hot dogs, tacos and meatloaf, for starters.  Turkey is not the devil.

–Entitlement to several courses of desserts throughout the day, always capped off with the late-night slice of cake.  While I sit there with a cup of tea topped off with a Splenda and skim milk.  Good times.

–Responding with seemingly genuine surprise when confronted with the fact that we own a scale.

–Having a pre-dinner before we go out to dinner.

–Ordering General Tso’s Chicken.  Even if you’re not trying to lose weight.  Unless you plan to make it your caloric intake for an entire month.

–Requesting another form of starch as a side to one’s pasta dinner.

I think this is a good start.  Although I totally wouldn’t be surprised if we find out that his doctor’s scale was broken and he, in fact, lost twelve pounds.  Even though he was weighed right after a three-course lunch.

With any luck, my kids will win the DNA lottery and take after P in this sense.

In the meantime, let’s all nod our heads in a moment of silence for the Fordeville Ring Ding box.  It’s time for P to say goodbye.