Sunday, April 24, 2011

Fried chicken butter pizza

I just turned 29 and since that is just one year away from The Big 3-0, I went in for a checkup. My doctor looked at me like a veterinarian looks at a horse with a broken leg. The prognosis was – unsurprisingly – not good.

I know I've gained a little weight recently. My wife also says it's normal for a husband to gain weight during his wife's pregnancy, but I suspect she is only trying to make me feel better. Why my wife's pregnancy would make me get fatter is anyone's guess. Perhaps it is because on any given evening you can find us driving around town on a quest to find some random food that she is craving, and when she is eating cheeseburgers, potato chips or banana popsicles, a few might accidentally make their way into my mouth through no fault of my own. It can't be helped.

Whatever the reason, it got me sent to the “Nutrition and Exercise Counselor,” which felt a lot like getting sent to the principal's office. I'm grown and not in elementary school anymore, but I was similarly terrified. She clucked to herself while reading my charts and I cowered in a chair across the desk from her.

“Do you know why you're here today?” she asked eventually.

“I'm fat?” I ventured.

“Right. I can tell from your blood work that you don’t exercise at all.”

“That’s not true!” I protested.

“Moving hand to mouth doesn’t count as ‘exercise.’”

Oooooh she was evil. But she was right. Next she told me that what I was eating was also part of the problem.

“For example, how often do you eat pizza?” she said.

“Once a week,” I said proudly, thinking this was a small and reasonable amount.

“Once a week!” she exclaimed. “That’s way too much!”

“Seriously?” I asked, dumfounded. “I ate pizza, like, every single day while I was in college.”

“Yeah but you aren’t in college anymore, now are you?”

Thoroughly beaten, I couldn't do anything but sit and listen as she explained with a straight face that HDL is “happy” cholesterol and LDL is “lousy” cholesterol. She also gave me color coded lists of foods: green meaning “go ahead and eat,” yellow meaning “eat with caution” and read meaning “don't eat.” I really was in elementary school.

At one point she leaned over to show me something on one of the lists and I realized she smelled very strongly of cigarette smoke, which made me furious. All I could think was, Girl, I know you did not just come up in here trying to tell me about “healthy lifestyle choices” when you are smelling like you just smoked seven packs of Marlboros! I could sit on my butt and eat pizza topped with fried chicken and butter all day every day and I would still outlive your smarmy cigarette-smoking hide!

But of course I didn't say any of that to her. I just listened, in case there was a test on it later.

Any other husbands/boyfriends/partners gaining weight with their pregnant wives? Comment if you like.

PS - I guest blogged at WTF Is Up With My Love Life and you can read it here.