No More Chocolate

I am ill. I have made myself ill eating chocolate. Two straight days of nothing but sugar and my body is give out. I'm going to Atlanta for 3 days this week and the Monday I get back (b/c all diets must start on Mondays, never on Saturday or Sundays) I am starting the South Beach diet.

I did it once with success. Lost about 5 lbs in the first two weeks and felt MUCH better in general. Discovered I actually liked eating meals I prepared versus shoving in my mouth whatever was closest in the pantry closet (although that has its advantages). But I got lax about preparing food. I'm hoping my husband will agree to South Beach with me and we can prepare foods together although, if this weekend is any indication, we don't see eye to eye in the kitchen.

Nothing is ever said outright. It's all subliminal. Here's an example of a true scene, with an italicized "what really happened" explanation.

Blair found a recipe for scalloped potatoes. I sliced the onions and then moved to the side to prepare something else. He layered the potatoes in the pan and then the recipe called for the onions to be placed on top. Blair picks up three, no more than 4 onion slices at a time and places them on a potato. At this rate, it will take him 10 minutes to layer the onions. It's all I can do not to reach over, grab a handful of onions, toss them on the potatoes and be done with it. Instead, I make polite conversation.

Me: "What are you doing?" (You're doing it wrong).

Him: "Putting the onions on." (Shut up. I'm doing it my way.)

Me: "Oh." (Your way sucks.)


Me: "Need any help?" (My way is infinently superior to yours and I'm dying to prove it)

Him: "No, thanks, I'm okay." (Get bent)

Me: "Okay, if you're sure." (Get bent, back).

It's called passive-aggressive and has saved many a marriage. Try it. It works.