Is it okay for your spouse to tell you to reach for a grapefruit instead of Carvel?

So contrary to what I’ve always believed – that I would be the lone holdout- the one woman who wouldn’t waste even 10 minutes of her day making an elliptical machine my bitch.. well I’ve, in some ways, become exactly that woman.

Perhaps I should take up more hula-hooping?

But let me be perfectly clear- I don’t EVER want to be a size zero again– I don’t want to walk around with a permanent scowl scarfing down coleslaw like its liquid gold. Buy I also want to live past the age of 68 or do my damn near best to maintain these organs I was given, and contrary to what I’d like to believe just not eating big macs everyday is not going to keep me living long. I actually understand now- that I have to move, even though I would so much rather welcome any extra poundage I accrue and look the other way as my jean size increases exponentially– if I want to attempt to avoid so many of the hereditary diseases I carry with me inside each and in every one of my cells.

So although I used to give my husband the silent treatment for several days after he’d take away my third blueberry waffle dripping in butter ad syrup- tonight when he took my hand off the freezer door as I was about to reach for a Carvel cup (yeah what the hell are they doing in my freezer if I cant eat them– it’s those DAMN kids I have) he gently pulled my hand away- and handed me a grapefruit.

He said he was, ” saving me from myself”. And while normally that would warrant an all out power struggle with him, me giving him a death stare and throwing an expensive vase at him (on the carpet of course). This time, I accepted it and I took the grapefruit and forgoed the ice cream. But this time I’m doing it for me, not for him or any other guy.