You know that point near the end of the horror movie where the psycho / monster / whatever has been arrested / dispatched / whatever and all the survivors is doing the whole “well, thank goodness that’s all over [nervous chuckles all round]” thing? Of course, it isn’t really over yet and you just know that there are at least one or two final “Yaaah!” moments still to come.
Well, just as my wife’s soup-madness finally seemed to be tapering off (and I was getting ready to breath a well-deserved sigh of relief), she announced that she was going to start a ‘programme of healthy eating’. Yaaah! For the uninitiated, this is code for ‘diet’ in my wife’s vocabulary and it is not a good thing. Not a good thing at all!
You see, my dear spouse has difficulty following diets for any length of time. Most diets start off well with a tasty meal of rice cakes, celery and tap water and generally last until the first hunger-pangs kick in. Shortly thereafter she will seek out and inhale every molecule of food within the confines of the flat (it’s usually best to lock the baby away during these times). Once the food supply has been utterly exhausted, the guilt sets in. This is often accompanied by mumbled accusations of how easy* it is for me to lose weight. This, in turn, is followed by a stern resolution to adhere to ‘the programme’ from this day forth etc, etc. Sure. The next day, the diet starts off well with a tasty meal of rice cakes, celery and tap water…
* Easy? Easy? I have to wire my jaw shut when I go shopping so I won’t be tempted to binge in the check-out aisle. I have to do about a million sit-ups before a single pound will grudgingly drop from my gut. Easy, my foot!