My wife is currently on a mission. She’s losing weight. And occassionlly her temper.
But naturally, I’m being very supportive.
Or so I thought.
“Are you trying to say I’m fat?” Tracey asked me on the weekend with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows knotted.
“Wha-” I said.
“Fat,” she repeated. “You think I’m fat, do you? You think I need to lose a bit of weight? A lot of weight.”
For the record, I have been staying out of the whole dieting discussion. For two very, very good reasons.
One, I think my wife is dead sexy. She’s perfect. She’s hot!
Two, I am not. And I live in dread of her suggesting I start monitoring my own intake.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked her, finally finding my voice. Honestly, I had no idea.
Then I saw the jar in her hand and realized where I’d gone seriously wrong. And I mean seriously.
A friend Tracey is walking with in the mornings gave her two jars the other day. As you lose weight you have to take a marble from one jar and put it into the other as a visual representation of the kilos which are falling off you.
I’d been staring at a freezer bag of marbles sitting next to the jars for a couple of days and finally decided to ‘help’ by emptying them into the from jar and throwing away the bag.
What I didn’t realize was Tracey had already put enough marbles in the from jar to represent the weight she wanted to lose.
“You want me down to the weight I was pre-kids, pre-twenties and pre-you, yes?”
She’s so cranky when she’s hungry.
If you enjoyed this post please share, like or comment.
It really does make a difference. Thanks.
“Raising a family on little more than laughs”