I think it’s pretty safe to say I’m a serial diet killer. I’ve been on one successful “diet” in my whole life (I actually lost 50 pounds and kept them off for several years- hard to believe, since that was many, many pounds ago). I truly have no clue what drove me to stick to that diet. One theory is that I was possessed by the spirit of Richard Simmons (yes, I know he’s still alive, but he’s so exuberant, his spirit is alive in all of us).
I imagine if Richard Simmons could be available to me today to keep me from being food naughty, I’d be pretty successful. Like, if he could jump out of a bush and yell, “OMG! No!” just as I’m about to take a big ol’ bite of chicken and waffles, that’d be good.
One of the first diet fads I tried was Slim Fast. That lasted precisely 12 hours.
Low carb eating went on for a week until I found out sugar-free candy and cookies still have carbs (what’s the point even?).
So, let’s just say I’ve had a lot of I’m-starting-my-diet-tomorrow-so-let’s-go-hard-at-Cold-Stone Sundays (because diets can only start on a Monday, dontcha know).
My poor boyfriend has gone through so many conversations with me about food that usually go something like, “It’s OK if I eat this entire bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, because I’m going to start counting my points/calories on Monday,”, that he *barely* rolls his eyes anymore when I say something like, “I’m really going to get serious about eating healthy come Monday!”
Literally the boyfriend
Almost always he steers entirely clear of my “diets” and turning over a new leaf speeches, because he knows exactly what’ll happen in exactly four days when it’s not new and fun to add kale to everything and the cravings for anything but kale hit hard.
For several years now, my dude has been in charge of the grocery shopping and he so is not into my sporadic dietary changes, demands, and needs.
I majorly lucked out and got grandfathered into a deal where I don’t need to take part in the weekly grocery shopping when I started my first year of teaching. We decided it wasn’t super fun for me to have to spend the entire week in my classroom and then in a grocery store with screaming children and cranky parents.
It’s been positively lovely to never have to step foot into our crazy ass grocery store that I’m convinced is a portal straight to and from the depths of Hell.
So, despite grocery shopping being his job, he really isn’t a fan of:
Get me oat milk, but not the one in the green box. That kind was just a little too oat-y.
Don’t forget to look for the organic agave nectar (at a store that rarely stocks organic). I’m 62% sure it’s in the sugar aisle.
Like, by any chance, is there ever diet Ben & Jerry’s?
I know they never have spaghetti squash, but just check.
How inconvenient would it be to buy a horse-sized bag of carrots? Like, the bag you’d buy to feed a horse?
Make sure the ketchup has no more than two grams of sugar.
If you forget my chocolate cream pie, don’t even come home.
The grocery store
we the boyfriend goes to has a million different varieties of All-American Pies right by the checkout for those last minute impulse buys.
If this image has made you feel a real hankering for one of these excellent cream carb bombs, you can actually buy a *new* 6-pack on Amazon for $14.19. Since they are like 50 cents-tops, I don’t think this is one of Amazon’s best deals.
The chocolate cream pie ones are pretty damn tasty with their gritty factory-flavor pudding and stale sugar-coated pie crust.
The boyfriend got in the habit of impulse-buying one for each of us every week.
At first, it was a fun and different way to ruin my diet. After awhile, though, I decided that shitty chocolate cream pie every week was not doing much for my figure, so I requested that he not get me one. Then, I’d sit seething and envious in the bedroom, where I couldn’t see, but could, unfortunately, hear him breaking into his pie.
(Due to the thick, but crinkly wrapper, Mars can hear when one of those bad boys are being torn into.)
So, it got to be too much knowing he was getting a cream pie and I wasn’t, so I requested that he purchase two cream pies until he heard otherwise.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
“I thought you were counting your points again?” He said.
I responded accordingly with:
He started getting two chocolate cream pies again without another word.
Like a predictably psychotic cycle, I decided the chocolate cream pies were to blame for my bloat, so I said a few weeks ago, “Babe, you have got to stop buying me those damn chocolate cream pies!”
“Are you fucking serious?” He replied.
I answered with:
I mean, don’t you know by now that I’m crazy?
I sorta kinda forgot that I had said no more cream pies, and after a particularly hellish day (that also happened to be Grocery Shopping Day), all I could think about on the drive home was sinking my teeth into a crusty, creamy pie for my dessert.
When I got home, I excitedly, expectantly opened the cupboard to discover NO CREAM PIE. NO.CREAM.PIE
“You’re joking right? You have to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.” He answered.
The words “chocolate cream pie” are not allowed in our house. They are referred to henceforth as “those individually packaged chocolate pastry delights that I’m never buying you again”.
So, at least in my case, this is why my boyfriend won’t go near any diet talk. If you’re anything like me and your man balks at even the slightest mention of keto, carb-cutting or whatever diet buzz word is popular at the time, check yourself before you wreck yourself. It might not be because he hates your avocado smoothies like you’ve always suspected…just sayin.
What about your significant other? What can they just not even with you? Let me know in the comments!