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Nuclear Energy at the Bathroom Scales I'm on the scale again. I stare, disgusted by the number. It hasn't gone down a smidge. Not even a half of a line. "Darn." I shout. "I haven't lost an ounce." My husband; he who possesses so much knowledge about so many subjects I cannot even pronounce, he of the aerospace engineering degrees and advanced honors in the field of nuclear energy, this brilliant man, utters this from across the bathroom floor: "I
think I know why you haven't lost any weight." I stare
at him, perplexed. Had I posed a question? This was, indeed, an
unwelcome analysis of my weighty plight. My look says it all: BACK OFF!
MISTER! But true to form, he plows on: "You
had, like, ten cookies after dinner tonight." I glare
at him from my perch on the scale. "SO!?" I reply. "Maybe
I NEED those cookies." "I'm
just saying," he replies, again unbidden, "that you are
wondering why you haven't lost any weight- hmmmm, let's think
back." "I
don't want to think back." I shoot at him. He, of course, dodges my
look and my words and continues. "First
there was Valentine's Day. You made sugar cookies, and then
another batch of sugar cookies. Then we had a birthday, and a cake.
Then, as soon as that was all gone, you made peanut butter
cookies." "Listen."
I said. "If I didn't make those cookies, I'd have to eat OREOS. Or
I'd have to go to the store and buy donuts." "But
if you REALLY wanted to lose some weight, wouldn't you just avoid the
sweets entirely?" He was
really testing my nerves here. "No." I said. "No?"
He replies, confusion written all over his face. "Because,"
I explain, as patiently as I can, "If I didn't eat SWEETS, then I'd
have to take in the calories in the form of some other kind of food.
Maybe salty...." I muse. "You
are missing my point." He is as exasperated as I am; but for
different reasons. "If you could just say, cut out all the extra
eating, between meals or for desert, wouldn't that help you to lose
weight?" I just
stare at him. I am starting to hate him, I think.
"Or not." He gets the hint. "You look great, anyway,
perfect in fact, you don't need to lose another pound." Now
that's more like it. Even if he is lying through his teeth, I don't
care. He has uttered the words I wanted to hear all along; all that cut
out the cookie talk was getting on my VERY last nerve. However. I am a
woman, so in spite of the fact that he has just complimented me, I must
protest. "Oh
no." I say, stepping off the scale. "I really do need to lose
about five more pounds." He looks
stricken, unsure of what to say. He can sense my defensive mode is up,
and he, being a clueless male has been lured into a trap for which there
is no escape. "Ahhh,
I am going to take my shower now." He finally manages, escaping
into the shower. I am
left alone to ruminate on the ever firm number on the scale and the
plight of one who loves to eat sweets with abandon without acknowledging
the fact that perhaps this indulgence is keeping that number on the
scale higher than I'd like it to be. "Maybe
you could pick up the exercise." My hubby pokes his head out of the
shower. He has obviously been giving this some thought. "That way
you could keep eating the cookies but still lose some weight." "That."
I reply, "Is NOT going to happen. I allready exercise way too much
as it is. I HATE IT- REMEMBER?" "Okay."
He says, ducking back into the safety of the shower, away from the
verbal blows from a cookie over-indulger. "Maybe you should just
keep doing what you are doing. You are sure to eventually lose the
pounds that way." I hear disbelief in his voice, but seize upon the
words anyway. "Yeah."
I reply, happy at last. "That's exactly what I will do!" |
