After we went out for our usual Saturday night date dinner last night (if you ever see anything on the menu called "bacon cheeseburger salad" GET IT, it's a low-carber's dream), Mr. LRA and I hit the supermarket for a couple of things. He decided he wanted a "treat" so I stood patiently in the freezer section, watching as he dithered between various desserts ranging from a Pepperidge Farm coconut cake to Haagen-Dazs.
Mr. LRA has been very supportive of my lifestyle change, to the point of giving up his own favorites just so they wouldn't be in the house and therefore exist as possible temptation. After some thought, however, it seemed that it was very unfair for me to restrict him just because I'm the fat ass in the family. He's naturally hyper so he's extremely active anyway. He has made some switches--instead of the quarts of sherbet and five or six ice cream sandwiches he used to down while watching Fast Money on CNBC he now snacks on Splenda-sweetened yogurt and jello--and he dropped about sixty pounds between losing the ice cream and stepping up his gym activity. If I didn't love him so much I would hate his guts for that, heh heh.
But watching him rummage through the freezer case last night didn't stir envy or resentment. I'm fortunate that I've never had much of a sweet tooth; if I binged on something it was usually Fritos or pizza. Last night for dinner he had mass quantities of pasta. Now I truly love pasta, so you would think that I would be staring and drooling and cursing myself. But ... no. I was perfectly happy with my salad. While he was trying to decide on pie I thought about the blueberries and raspberries in my freezer. I could throw the frozen berries with a little cream and stevia into my baby Cuisinart and make soft serve, or I could thaw them and mix them with some Greek yogurt and stevia. Cake? I could make three-minute chocolate cake out of almond flour, or maybe cinnamon cake.
In the end he decided on a piece of Dutch apple pie. I got involved with a computer project when we got home and forgot about dessert all together. I seem to do that a lot these days.
Tomorrow I get to lift. Joy and huzzah.
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1 comment:
It's hard when you live with someone that isn't on the diet. I once got hit in the head by a falling tastykake pie in my own kitchen-- because he was attempting to hide it from me.
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