The Man Diet
Last week, I introduced you to Joel, my much older husband. This week’s show is two-fold - “The Man Diet” followed by “Speed Shopping.”
Eight weeks ago, my husband gave up Dr. Pepper. Not entirely, mind you. He simply dropped his intake from unlimited (between eight and 10 per day) to two 12-ounce drinks a day. I’m happy for him, because this reduction allowed him to lose 30 pounds in those two months. Yes, I said 30 pounds. In. Eight. Weeks.
It certainly is a miracle diet, and I would gladly hop on the bandwagon, except that I don’t drink full-calorie sodas, and haven’t since 1978, when I was six. So I have nothing to “give up” in regard to liquid calories.
It’s hard being married to a man that loses weight by looking at food. Joel’s recreational reading consists of Louis L’Amour westerns and cookbooks.
I told Joel it would help if he would be a partner for me with fitness and diet.
“I really want you to help me, Honey. When I tell you I feel like going out for a Blizzard at DQ, I need you to support me,” I said.
“Sure, honey. I can ride out there with you,” he replied.
Joel has never met a human being he didn’t love. He believes everyone is genuinely a good person. He loves to talk to old friends and ask them questions about their lives. It’s truly endearing and a testament to his richly-nuanced character.
Except at the store. We have to travel nearly an hour to shop at a large superstore, so you’d think we could get there, get groceries, and get out without seeing many people we know.
We are shopping today. I give a quick pep talk about how we need to be in and out in double time since we have another place to be shortly. I talk about how cool Chuck Yeager is. Speed is good. Chuck Yeager didn’t break the sound barrier by stopping to talk to a bunch of old buddies.
We go in. Things are progressing well. I send Joel with our daughter to look at toys. The two march off happily.
Meanwhile, I shop with purpose and speed. I check items off my shopping list app with efficiency. I am reminded of the old game shows in which shoppers had so many minutes to fill their carts in order to receive their groceries for free.
Then it happens. I spot someone who looks vaguely familiar. “Vaguely familiar” to me, is “long lost buddy” to Joel. I have to keep them in the toy aisle approximately seven minutes more as I grab fresh produce. Or do I even need fresh produce? We can get by this week on canned fruit, for God’s sake!
I text Joel to meet in aisle number one. The vaguely familiar dude is 21 aisles away from there. I grab a pre-bagged sack of apples as I speed through produce.
I greet Joel with a huge smile and a kiss. I massage his neck gently with one hand while taking things out of the cart with the other. Joel is tall, but I guide him behind a giant stuffed squirrel hanging above the checkout in aisle number one, effectively cutting off his view of the vaguely familiar dude 21 aisles away. I am a master of escape. I should have been in the foreign intelligence field. I barely bruised the apples as I threw them on the checkout conveyor.
“Oh my GAWD! Joel? Joel from Lincoln? Good Lord. I haven’t seen you since we were on the junior Olympics track team in 1978!”
Crap! Crap, crap, crap! I lost him to a guy he hasn’t seen since I gave up full-calorie soda. It’s not even the same guy I thought looked familiar. I sigh. At least I can unload the cart with both hands now.
You can interact with me on the “In-House with Little Spouse” thread on the Little Spouse on the Prairie Facebook page. This week, I’d like to hear listeners’ thoughts about people who seem to know EVERYONE. I posted a good ol’ joke about this topic on the forum too.